The Mentalist: Scarlet Woman
by Donnamour1969
Summary: NEW! EPILOGUE POSTED! Collaboration with waterbaby134. How do you solve a problem like Lorelei? That's just what Jane and Lisbon must figure out. Our take on what we'd like to happen post finale. Spoilers for 4x23-24. Romance,drama,humor,Jisbon! Rated T/M for adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Welcome to my first collaborative story, with the awesome writer of such great fics as the Mentalist/Castle crossover "It Takes a Village" and the great "Dual Deception," (among many others) **waterbaby134**. I knew as soon as I discovered her wonderful stories that we had similar styles, and that if we were to collaborate, our story would flow seamlessly together. But we'll leave that to you readers to decide.

This fic takes place post-season 4 finale, and we promise plenty of dialogue, romance, humor, sexytimes, and a bit of angst along the way. In other words, our fantasy of how season 5 would go if we had our way. We hope you enjoy our experiment and will let us know what you think. Chapter 1 belongs to waterbaby134...

**Scarlet Woman**

**Chapter 1**

With immense difficulty, Lisbon strove to keep her head for the rest of the interview, even though what she'd just heard made her want to both be violently sick, and to scream at the top of her lungs.

She studied the woman in front of her, the latest in a long line of Red John's stooges (or disciples as Jane had come to name them.) Not for the first time, she marvelled at the level of influence that Red John imparted on his people. Mere hours ago, this woman had been on the point of cutting Jane's ring finger right off on the serial killer's say-so.

What did he do, what did he say to these people to inspire such pure, unwavering loyalty? It was the kind of leadership skill many would envy. Even Jane, more gifted at persuasion than anyone she knew, would be hard-pressed to exercise such complete control over someone.

That being said, however, he'd done a pretty good job at working her over.

She'd let him lob back into her life after six months without so much as a word. She'd let him "shoot" her in her office. She'd allowed him to run his risky, foolhardy scheme, and she'd been there when it all went wrong. For that was the trouble with Jane, just when you thought the worst was over, there was always something else.

It was certainly unexpected to hear Lorelei call him 'lover.' Even more unexpected that he didn't dispute it. But it shouldn't have hurt so much to watch him kiss the top of her head as he left the room. Because it drove into her like an icy knife, even though she recognised the seemingly tender gesture for the veiled threat it actually was.

Nothing much surprised her when it came to her consultant anymore. But this hit her for a six.

He'd slept with her. After almost a decade of self-imposed celibacy, and steadfast commitment to preserving his wife's memory, this was the woman on whom he'd thrown it all away. How could this possibly be?

And how on Earth could he have been so stupid? How could he possibly have not seen Lorelei for what she was? Or was it just that he didn't care anymore?

He may not believe it, but she knew he was worth more than this. He deserved better.

Lorelei raised an eyebrow with an expression of faint amusement.

"He really didn't tell you," she said. "That's interesting."

"Is it?"

"Yes," said Lorelei softly. "Because he seems to put a rather higher value on your life than his own. I suppose I thought that would extend to entrusting you with the details of his little plans."

Little plans. Falling off the grid completely for half a year was hardly a _little plan_. There was nothing little about the way she'd agonized over him during that time, some days needing to physically restrain herself from jumping into her car and just driving until she found him. Whatever she might have said about him needing to hit rock bottom before he could recover, if it were up to her, she'd catch him on the way down.

"Now he's gone, you and I can really talk," Lorelei went on with a smirk. "Woman to woman."

"You'll forgive me if I decline that offer," said Lisbon, getting to her feet. "As a rule, I don't make a habit of befriending suspects. Sends the wrong message to the man upstairs." She raised her eyebrows to the ceiling.

"As in, God?"

"No, my boss."

Lorelei chuckled. "Oh, come on now, Teresa, go ahead. We both know you're dying to ask. It's just us here, and don't worry-" her eyes gleamed malevolently-"I won't tell."

"Tell whom, exactly? I'd have thought being Red John's lackey would have a pretty negative effect on your social life. Not a whole lot of time for making friends when you're kept so busy with murders and deception."

"You're a little defensive," Lorelei observed, in a gentle tone, which made Lisbon's skin crawl. "Perfectly understandable. I'd be humiliated too if I had such questionable taste in men."

"I'm not the one who works for a serial killer," said Lisbon.

"No," agreed Lorelei. "But you are an enabler to a man maddened by grief, who so far has taken two lives, and is quite capable of taking more. Are they really so different?"

Lisbon couldn't pretend this thought hadn't occurred to her over the years. It was hard to hunt a monster without becoming one yourself, and more than once she had wondered if Jane might be slipping. But he couldn't have crossed the line yet. She'd have known. She'd have seen it.

And if he really had turned into a creature like Red John, he'd have killed her when he'd been asked to. He wouldn't have gone to the effort of constructing an elaborate ruse; he'd have simply blown her away. She had to believe there was still hope for him yet.

"Yes," she said stubbornly. "Jane would never kill for the joy of it."

"Ah, but you worry that someday he will," said Lorelei shrewdly. "He's walking a very fine line at the moment, but what will you do when he steps over it? You'll be sitting right where I am."

"I'm nothing like you."

"You do what he asks, don't you? You'd protect him at all costs. You'd kill for him. You'd die for him. Isn't that true?"

She was right. Lisbon would do all those things and more. She put her job on the line on a regular basis. She burned a lot of bridges with superiors and colleagues for his benefit. She knew it was wrong, but she'd done it anyway. But she'd be damned before she admitted that to Lorelei.

"You see?" Lorelei went on. "Mirror images, you and I. And not just in the physical sense." She flicked her dark hair out of her eyes. "Patrick certainly has a type, doesn't he?"

"Much as I'm enjoying this little chat," said Lisbon, with dignity. "I have work to do. And you've got a trip to the remand centre, which I'd just hate for you to miss."

"You're really not going to ask, are you?" said Lorelei. "You're a lot more stubborn than people give you credit for. Now all the stories make sense." She smiled. "How about I just tell you what you want to know?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"He was good," said Lorelei, boldly, leaving no doubt to what exactly she was referring. "I'd give him a solid 7.5. Of course, it might have been even higher had his mind been on the job."

Lisbon didn't trust herself to speak.

"I've slept with enough men to know when their attention is wavering, and Patrick's mind was definitely on something, or someone-" Lorelei paused to let that word sink in "-else. I wonder what that might have been."

"That's none of my business," said Lisbon.

"Of course," said Lorelei. "Just something for you to think about."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In truth, Jane hadn't really missed all that much about the CBI, during his (for lack of a better word) "sabbatical." The endless, tedious cases, full of people insisting they hadn't done anything wrong when they obviously had. Bosses with their own political agendas that they cared more about than solving crimes. People who felt they had more of a right to justice then others just because they were rich or powerful, or knew somebody that was.

In a way, Sin City had been a refreshing change. Most people didn't bother pretending to be someone they weren't. Powerful businessmen hired high-class hookers, and gambled away all their money on the slots without shame, because that's what you were supposed to do in Vegas. People came with their last few dollars hoping to strike it rich and turn their lives around. The hotels and casinos were full to bursting with people running away from something. It was a haven for the lonely, the depraved, the desperate, and the damned. People didn't ask questions or cast aspersions on others in Vegas, because there were too many skeletons in their own closets.

So he had fit right in.

But there were some aspects of the CBI he'd looked back on fondly as he holed up in yet another cheap hotel room, drunk off his ass, and fresh from swindling some other poor sucker of all his money and self-worth.

He'd yet to find a couch that equalled the comfort level of the one at the CBI, and he'd crashed out on a fair few, either too drunk or just too damn lazy to walk the twenty or so more steps to reach the bed. Every so often, he'd caught himself thinking of what Cho might say to the working girl that approached him on a street corner, or how Van Pelt would disapprove of the way he'd count cards at a casino if he were running short of cash.

He'd tried not to think of Lisbon too much, if he could help it. Though she made that difficult, with the never-ending stream of texts and voicemails clogging up his phone. In the first few weeks, he would listen to them every now and then; play one after the other like a medley of misery. She threatened him, she tried to reason with him, she attempted reverse-psychology on him, and she shouted and screamed at a decibel that caused him to have to hold the phone away from his ear.

It was about two months after he'd left when she stopped raging and started begging instead. He'd only been able to stand two messages worth of her pleas for him to call her, to text, to just give some sign he was OK.

"Please, Jane," she said at the end of the second one. "What did I do to make you shut me out like this? I can help you. We can fix it, but you've got to let me. Please let me."

He stopped listening to them after that. It was just too hard. So he let his phone fill up with message after message that remained unheard. He never deleted them though, for fear he'd wake up one morning, face down in a ditch and not be able to remember what her voice sounded like. She was his last grip on reality, and he couldn't afford to let it go.

He could scarcely believe his favourite cup and saucer were still in the break room, but there they were, as if waiting for him to return. His couch was in the same place it had always been, with Elvis on the ceiling right where he laid his head.

There was still no sign of Lisbon, as he fixed his second cup of tea. She and Lorelei had been in there a while now. So far there hadn't been any thuds or smashing glass or shrieks, which he supposed was a good sign, but still, he'd feel a whole lot better once she came out here again. He'd deliberately left the interrogation as quickly as he could after Lorelei had let it slip about their night together, and he'd hoped Lisbon would follow suit.

She would have found out eventually, he was sure, but he knew that hearing it from Lorelei would have made it even worse. He knew he should have told her. His only excuse was that he hadn't the faintest clue of how to broach the topic. As a rule, he and Lisbon rarely talked about their personal lives, and this, to admit to breaking one of his own most important, intimate codes on a Red John disciple, was about as personal as it got.

Heavy footfalls heralded the arrival of Rigsby, making his usual afternoon pilgrimage to the refrigerator for a snack. Jane knew he was still irritated about being made to fake his own death, and couldn't say he blamed him. No doubt it had been difficult explaining to Sarah why she wasn't forewarned about his supposed "death" being all over the television. Jane could only be grateful that his son was still young enough not to have any grasp of what had happened. Things like that in childhood were what made kids become serial killers.

"Rigsby," he greeted him.

Apparently, Rigsby felt that a simple greeting was not something that he could justifiably ignore, so he grunted a response. "Jane."

"How are things?"

"Freaking fantastic," said Rigsby, sarcastically. "I've got paperwork up to my eyeballs, a girlfriend who hates my guts at the moment and a son whose first word I missed out on hearing because I was holed up in a warehouse with you," he said. "Not to mention I'm really getting sick of people coming up to me on the street and saying that they saw me on the news and that they thought I was dead. Yesterday, I had a lady fall on her knees and start crossing herself in the middle of the supermarket. She thought I was a demon from beyond the grave."

Jane chuckled a little. "Could be worse," he ventured. "You could actually be dead."

"Well hey, if I keep working with you long enough it's bound to happen sooner or later."

"Rigsby, I'm-"

"Sorry, I know," Rigsby interrupted flatly. "You're always sorry. Save it for the boss; she's the only one who might believe you. Where is she anyway?"

"Still in interrogation."

"What's the point? The girl's not going to tell us anything. They never do."

"This one's different," said Jane. "I can feel it."

"Sure," said Rigsby, doubtfully. "But if you don't mind, I'll hold off on ordering the cake for the moment."

"Are you offering to order one when the time comes?"

Rigsby sighed. "Man, if this actually turns out to be the one that cracks Red John for us I'll order two cakes," he said. "I'll order a whole bakery. I'll even get Cho to wear a party hat for an entire day." He sighed again. "But given past experience, I'm not hopeful."

He rooted around in the fridge for a moment, and emerged holding an orange, which he surveyed with an expression of great distaste.

"Slim pickings today?" inquired Jane.

"Sarah says I need to start watching what I eat, you know, to set a good example to Benjamin," said Rigsby, still beholding the citrus fruit as if it were a hand grenade. "And seeing as I just made her spend days under the impression she was going to be a single mother, I'm a big believer in doing what she wants at the moment." He began to peel the orange over the sink unenthusiastically.

"It's probably for the best."

"She's coming by in an hour. And if I were you, I'd be making myself scarce. She might be mad at me, but she's absolutely livid with you. And don't count on me for support," said Rigsby.

Jane had a fleeting memory of Angela, in the first year after Charlotte had been born, overwrought, exhausted, and liable to snap at the drop of a hat. And she'd been a stay-at-home mother during that time as he'd been making more than enough to support them. Sarah was balancing new parenthood with her public defender's job as well. He grimaced.

"Thanks for the heads-up."

"I'm not doing it for you," Rigsby shrugged. "I just don't think Maintenance would be too happy about having to get blood out of the carpet. Again."

"I'll be upstairs," said Jane, referring to his attic hideaway. "Tell Lisbon when she comes out, will you?"

"OK," said Rigsby, "And Jane?" He looked up from the orange. "You know we all really want to get Red John too, right? And not just for your family, but for Bosco and his guys, and now I guess Wainwright too." He paused, the gruesome murder of their latest boss still a little too raw to be tossed out so casually. "But seriously, faking people's deaths, promising the boss's head in exchange for intel? Enough is enough."

"I was never going to do it," said Jane, indignantly. "I'd never hurt Lisbon, not in a million years. That's why I came up with the plan."

"Yeah, but what if they'd asked for Grace's head, or Cho's, or mine?" said Rigsby. "Would you still have done the same thing? Or just cut your losses and killed us?" He continued without waiting for a response. Jane suspected he was afraid of the answer. "Lisbon might be immune to your lunacy, but the rest of us aren't. This has got to stop."

"I agree," said Jane. "But there's only one way. We just have to be patient."

"You keep saying that," said Rigsby. "But I'll believe it when I see it."

It was several hours before Lisbon sought out Jane. She'd heard from Rigsby that he was up in the attic, and so she left him there. She was still mad at him for throwing her in the deep end with Lorelei, and she knew from experience that she wouldn't get the best results if she confronted him while she was upset.

She couldn't help smiling a little to herself as she rapped on the attic door. Finally, it was starting to feel like old times again, with Jane closeting himself away, and she now going to fetch him. She took the lack of response as permission to enter. He was lying on his makeshift bed staring up at the ceiling.

"Hey Lisbon," he said, without turning to look at her.

"How did you know?"

"Who else would it be?" he said. "None of the others can stand the sight of me right now."

"They'll come around."

He sighed.

"What are you doing up here anyway?" she asked.

"Apparently, Sarah is baying for my blood," he said. "And hardly without reason."

"She'll calm down after a while. They all will, and then everything will be fine again." She didn't even believe herself as she said this, but she had to at least hope for a good outcome. The alternative was too upsetting.

"Much as I admire your optimism, Lisbon," said Jane. "I don't share it."

"I forgave you," she said, irritated by his pessimism. "Doesn't that count for something?"

"Not everybody has your incredible capacity to overlook things, Lisbon," he said.

"So," Lisbon said with an attempt at breeziness. "Lorelei was interesting."

"Indeed."

"You should have told me about her."

"How?" he asked. "What was I supposed to say? 'Hey Lisbon, long time, no see. Oh and by the way, one of Red John's girlfriends bailed me out of jail, and I nailed her in my motel room.' Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Jane!" she said reproachfully.

The Patrick Jane she'd always known may be a pain in the ass, but he'd always been well spoken, and rarely crass like this. He normally used the kind of language better suited to the ninteenth century; in fact, practically his whole life was homage to the Jane Austen era, with the three piece suits, the intimate knowledge of Shakespeare, and the ridiculous contraption he called a car. He was unique, and she'd always kind of liked that. What had happened to him during those six months?

"What?" he snapped.

"I just kind of hoped there'd be a reason why you abandoned your principles and your morals. I guess I thought-"

"That I'd never sleep with another woman again?" Jane finished for her, angrily. "That I'd spend the rest of my life alone and miserable?"

"Well, yes," she said. Lying wasn't going to get her anywhere. "Did you know she was working for Red John?"

He took a long, slow breath before answering, playing for time. She knew this meant that he'd been hoping they could avoid this question for now, or preferably forever.

Experience told her he was about to tell her something she wasn't going to want to hear. But no matter how it hurt her to know the details of their little tryst, she'd still prefer it to being lied to.

"I had my suspicions," he said, and she felt her heart sink a little. "I saw her around the place a few times, and it was just something about the way she was always _there_. Because the thing about Vegas is that there's so many people that even the ones who work there, you rarely see two nights running. So that seemed a little fishy. And then one night we really got to talking. I guess she must have got word from the boss that it was time to reel me in."

"And what exactly did you talk about?" she asked.

"Nothing of consequence really," he said. "The difference between wrong and right, stealing money from people, killing Timothy Carter last year, though I didn't refer to him by name of course-"

"Sure, just the usual light-hearted conversation you have at a bar. Don't want to introduce the heavy stuff too early, after all," she said, sarcastically.

His mouth twitched like he wanted to smile, but he bit it back.

"She barely reacted when I told her those things. A normal person would have been shocked, repulsed, but she wasn't because of course, she'll have done far worse as one of his cronies. That's when I knew for certain. And then when she bailed me out of jail that was just the icing on the cake."

"She did?"

He nodded. "That was overkill, in my opinion. So much so, that at one point, I had the idea it might even have been you that did it."

"How could it possibly have been me?" she said, "I didn't even know where you were, let alone what you were doing."

This time he really did smile, as she scowled at him. "I know it's been a little while Lisbon, but that doesn't mean I don't still know when you're lying to me. I know how you cops all like to gossip. I'm sure it got back to you somehow. No doubt you were trying to teach me a lesson?" he asked.

As he fell silent, she knew they were both thinking the same thing. Would she have bailed him out eventually? For all her talk of letting him hit rock-bottom, and not giving him any help unless he asked for it, she wouldn't have liked the idea of him spending an extended period of time incarcerated, given his fragile (or so she thought at the time) mental state. She knew in the end, she would have scraped the money together somehow and gotten him out of there. She was just a glutton for punishment that way.

"She thought she was playing me the whole time," said Jane. "When in truth, I knew I was the one playing _her_."

"That still doesn't explain why you slept with her."

"It was a necessary evil," he said. "In order to get her to show her true colours, I had to present myself like a man who had no hope. I knew Red John would see it as an act of desperation when I spent the night with her, and I had a hunch that he'd make his move. I was the perfect target, alone in the world, friendless…"

"You were only alone because you chose to be!" she said, firing up at once. "You took off to Vegas without a word. You made my life hell for half a year. There's nobody else you can blame for that, Jane. It was all you!"

"And do you really think it was easy for me to cut you out of my life like that?" he asked her, not shouting like her, but as calmly as though he were simply pointing out something they'd missed at a crime scene. "Do you think even a single day went by that I didn't miss you?"

"You didn't give me so much as a second thought while you were gone," she said, accusingly. "You were too busy living it up, getting into fights, taking people's money…"

He rolled his eyes, and fished in his pocket for something. She recoiled slightly as he withdrew it. After all, it hadn't been long ago that he had pulled a gun on her, which despite the plan had still sent a little thrill of terror up her spine.

She wasn't even going to think about the other things that had happened, or had been said, at that particular point in time. Jane had no idea what she was talking about when she'd carefully raised the subject, and she'd prefer to keep it that way. At least, that was the notion she clung to, ignoring the little voice in the back of her mind that kept insisting that "hyped-up" or not, she had never known Jane's memory palace to fail him before.

Luckily, this time he presented her with nothing but a cell phone.

"Take a look at the messages," he said.

She grimaced, not really in the mood to read flirty texts between him and his cocktail waitress. "No thanks," she said, holding it out to him.

"Will you just look?" he asked, sounding slightly exasperated for the first time.

She opened the inbox reluctantly and scrolled down the list. The words "Teresa Lisbon" flashed in front of her eyes again, and again and again, in a solid block until she reached the end. She let out a small gasp.

"Voicemail's pretty much the same," he said. "Except for a message from the phone company reminding me to pay my bill."

"You kept them all?" she asked, in a small voice.

"They were the only link I had to you," he said.

"But you didn't even open half of these," she observed, scrolling through the list a second time.

"Didn't need to. I knew what they'd say." He smiled humourlessly. "And I couldn't listen to you pleading with me anymore. I couldn't stand it. You know what a coward I am."

"You're not a coward," she said, automatically.

He let out a tiny chuckle. "What do I have to do to you to make you give up this ridiculous faith in me?" he asked. "Any sane person would have dropped me like a hot rock by now."

"Are you calling me insane?"

"You do the same thing over and over again, and continually expect different results. The very definition of insanity," he said. "I shot you, for heaven's sake!"

"You shot _at _me," she corrected him, "With a gun full of blanks."

"The plan was already ruined by then," he said. "Red John was already onto us. I think the game was up the moment Lorelei suggested it to me."

"How?"

"I refused. Oh, I tried to smooth it over but the damage was done. The whole exercise was pointless. In fact, all I did was hand him another weapon." He looked up at her, sadly. "He knows you're my weak spot now. I think he always suspected it, but now it's been confirmed." He sighed. "I'm so sorry. You're in more danger now than ever before."

She couldn't say she was surprised at this news. Ever since the Hardy incident, Jane had been making it clear where he drew the line in terms of her. It was always going to be a matter of time until Red John realized it too.

"I'm a cop. I'm always in danger."

"But you shouldn't have to be."

"But I am. That's the way it is."

There was a brief silence, before Jane exhaled softly and then raised his eyebrows.

"Believe it or not, I have one more piece of bad news for you," he said.

"Oh God, what now?" she said, not sure she could handle anything else today.

"I kept my distance from you because I was trying to protect you," he said.

"I don't need you to protect me," she said firmly.

"However," Jane went on, as though there had been no interruption. "With circumstances being what they are, I don't think staying away is going to do much good anymore."

"You can say that again."

"So I'm sorry Lisbon, but the bad news is, you're stuck with me."

A/N: So the stage is set, and the next chapter will show how much Loralei is getting to Jane. I'm up next...

Thanks in advance for any words of encouragement.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wow! Waterbaby134 and I are overwhelmed by the response to that first chapter! Thank you so much for all your kind words, favorites, alerts, and overall enthusiasm for this fic. Now, I have the responsibility of rising to meet the high bar she set for chapter one! No pressure...Deep breaths...Here I go...

**Chapter 2**

His announcement was met with silence, and he glanced over at her, meeting a stare that was so direct even he began to grow uncomfortable after a few moments.

"What? No comment? No giddy 'I'm happy to be stuck with you'? Or an annoyed, 'stuck like a cow's foot in the mud'? I do so love those down-home expressions of yours."

He was just talking now to fill the silence, which was totally unlike him. Being away from her, from the company of a _real _person, had put him terribly out of practice. Maybe she _didn't_ want to be stuck with him after all, he realized, feeling a little panicked at the thought.

"I guess I could still leave." The words sounded petulant even to him.

Teresa put her thumb and two fingers at her temples, closing her eyes and massaging at the tension absently.

"I don't want you to go, Jane," she whispered.

He'd heard her perfectly, but couldn't resist saying, "What?"

She dropped her hand and looked at him wearily. "You heard me. And I don't want to hear anymore of this 'I'm staying to protect you' crap, because that's just what it is: crap. The truth is, you need us as much as we need you. Besides," she continued, a small grin hovering around her lips as if she'd stumbled upon an epiphany. "We've got Lorelei in custody here, and there's no way in hell you'd want out now." She walked closer to his cot and he sat up at her determined expression.

"The more I think of it, all this 'I saved all your messages' jazz is you buttering me up, leading me to believe you'd actually missed me. Oh, poor lonely Jane, holding on to the only connection he had with Teresa Lisbon—her voice mail and text messages. How touching. You can take your conman games and...and stick them where the sun don't shine. Is that down-home enough for you?"

He couldn't help but wince at her slightly mocking tone, mainly because she might think she had him pegged, but what she'd said about his being lonely, about him holding on to her messages, was actually the truth.

_Here it is,_ he thought. _Here is my way out of those words that unexpectedly slipped out before I shot her, a way to deny all these feelings that are close to the surface because I'm so damn grateful just to be in her presence again. _

His face relaxed into his familiar, unaffected grin. "Okay, Lisbon, you got me. I couldn't risk you suddenly realizing you were better off without me. You know there's nothing I wouldn't say or do to get Red John."

She looked hurt all of a sudden, and he wished immediately he could take it all back, stop being the coward she claimed he wasn't and reassure her that he wasn't conning her. That he hadn't forgotten he'd told her he loved her.

"Well, that's pretty damn obvious now, isn't it?" She said. But then the venom in her tone left her in a tired sigh. "Look, you know I'm not going to keep you from Lorelei. As a matter of fact, we're using you just as much as you are us, Jane. If anyone can break her, it's you. And Jane... for what it's worth...I _did_ miss you. I _am _happy to be stuck with you, and I can't think of a better way to characterize what I am Jane—what we _both_ are—stuck. Neither of us can pull ourselves out of the mud, at least not for more than six months at a time." She smirked a little at the end.

Her words hovered between them like a tangible thing, and Jane experienced a sudden lightness almost on par with seeing her again in the church a few days ago.

"Well. Okay, then," he said, busily re-pocketing his phone. Lisbon narrowed her eyes at him. He looked almost...happy.

"There was uh, actually a reason I came up here," Lisbon ventured, almost shy now after the wringer they'd just been through. She took out her own phone and glanced at the time.

"You mean you didn't just come to enter into a war of words with me?"

She ignored him.

"Lorelei is about to be remanded to Federal custody. If you want another stab at her on our turf, you have about an hour. I'm sure you wanted to say good-bye."

Jane's heart skipped a beat in anticipation of confronting Red John's girl again. Before Lisbon had entered his attic hideaway, he'd been working out in his mind his strategy for breaking her. It would be a slow, tedious process. Just by talking to disciples like Rebecca and Dumar, and now, Lorelei, he knew Red John had sunk his talons so deeply into their psyches that it would take incredibly dextrous deprogramming to remove each claw, digit by digit.

"Jane?"

"An hour's not much," he complained.

She shrugged. "Who knows when they'll let you at her again? The Feds are pretty territorial about this kind of thing. They'd taken over the Red John case before you left, if you recall."

"Oh, I recall," he said grumpily. He hopped up off the cot and straightened his vest and jacket.

"You look fine," she said softly. He met her eyes, feeling suddenly like she was watching him prepare for a date with another woman. His stomach lurched a little at her melancholy expression.

"Thanks, Lisbon, but I'm not trying to impress her. I want her to see that she doesn't ruffle my feathers. You'd do well to do the same when next you meet."

"She didn't ruffle anything of mine," she said defensively. "It seems to me, _lover_, that you're the one who should be a little more...guarded."

So it was back to that. Funny how it kept coming back to _that_. He grinned, for there could be no other way to describe her reaction than jealousy.

"An hour, eh? Well, Rome wasn't built in a day, I suppose."

"Or even six months," she quipped, following him out of the attic.

"Touché, Lisbon. Touché."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Back for more?" asked Lorelei, sitting back in the interrogation room chair like she was about to receive a relaxing spa treatment. She smiled prettily. "I suppose you're no different than any of the other men I've known."

"Including Red John?" he asked mildly, taking his seat across from her. He felt Lisbon's eyes on the back of his head as she watched the interview from the other side of the one-way window. For the first time in memory, showing off for her was not going to be pleasurable.

"He's the exception, I suppose. But then, he's the exception to every rule I can think of."

"Right," said Jane sceptically. "In what way? Please, enlighten me. I'd like to know more about him. How he thinks. What motivates him..."

"Oh, Patrick. You're wasting time asking questions you already know the answers to. Why not ask me what I thought of your performance in bed? All men like to know how good they are. They're so insecure about those things."

Jane tensed, but forced himself to relax. From the way she glanced at the opaque window, she'd likely guessed Lisbon stood behind it and she was clearly trying to get a rise out of him. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

"I told Agent Lisbon what I thought of our encounter," Lorelei continued at his silence. "Didn't she tell you?"

"Agent Lisbon is a professional. She wouldn't discuss personal matters with me unless they were important to a case." _Yeah, right, _he finished to himself, knowing full well that Lisbon was likely frowning on the other side of the window.

"Aw, she may be a state agent, but she's a woman first. She'd be curious to know what a future prospect would be like in the sack."

He wasn't going to touch that assertion.

"I'd much rather know how good Red John is," he said, attempting to put the conversation back on a more productive keel. "What kind of lover is _he_? Rough? Gentle? Kinky?"

She grinned dreamily. "One can't quantify a love that transcends the mere physical."

"Hmmm...so you _were _lovers, then?"

He'd always wondered if sex played a part in the overall seduction of the serial killer's followers. Red John had taken Rosalind Harker as a lover, but she wasn't a typical disciple, wasn't brainwashed like the others. She'd been an exception, perhaps because she was blind and could never categorically identify him. Whether Lorelei knew it or not, she'd just given him valuable information he'd be able to use against her later.

"Don't be jealous, Patrick. Nothing can take away what we had together."

"Unfortunately," he murmured.

"Now you're just being mean. In case you're feeling inadequate, though, I did tell Agent Lisbon your heart wasn't completely in our night together. But I recognized your potential. That thing you did with your tongue—"

"Are you finished?" He interrupted, raising a sardonic eyebrow.

She smiled in that simpering, self-satisfied way that at first he'd found mildly charming. Now that she'd finally revealed her true colors, the sight of her made him sick. Sick with himself. He'd shown himself how far he was willing to go to get revenge, even breaking his vow to remain faithful to his wife. He'd taken a chance, felt his sacrifice had been worth it. How tragic if all of this came to naught, if he lacked the skill necessary to extract the secrets of Red John from Lorelei's psychopathic brain.

"I'm only just beginning...lover," she said, and his mouth formed a straight line.

He couldn't do this anymore, not with Lisbon watching. It was time to wrap things up; coming back in here without a fully developed plan had been a mistake. He rose to his feet.

"The Feds are on their way to take you to your new home," he told her. "Just thought I'd pop in to say good-bye. For now, at least."

"How sweet," she said, sounding sincere. "Oh, Patrick...before you go, you could help settle a bet I had with Red John..."

He smiled benignly, but a warning voice inside him told him he had to leave now, before she drew him into yet another trap. He ignored it.

"You and Red John make bets?"

She laughed. "It must have been because we were in Vegas. Anyway, when I told him what you'd whispered to me that night, that you hadn't done this in awhile, he bet me a hundred dollars you hadn't been with a woman since your wife. I said that couldn't possibly be true. I mean, I could tell you were out of practice, but that's been what—nine years? And look at you, such a handsome, passionate man, putting yourself out of commission for that long? No way—"

But despite her enthusiasm, she was watching his face carefully, and she must have been well trained by her master to recognize a man's weaknesses and hone in on them like a spider. He'd felt the involuntary tightening of his jaw at her words, saw her moment of triumph when she recognized Red John had been right about him.

Jane swallowed against his dry throat, but said evenly, "Good-bye, Lorelei."

She chuckled again, her eyes dancing merrily. "Oh, my God. He was right!" She shook her head in amazement. "Oh, Patrick, you should have told me! That must have felt like losing your virginity all over again. Had I known, I would have been much gentler with you. But at the time, you didn't seem to want gentle—Anyway, I have to say, I feel honored, truly." She brought her cuffed hands up to heart in feigned sentimentality.

His hand paused on the doorknob. To enhance the realism of his con, he'd shared with her a bit of the truth because he wanted to gain her trust, wanted her to go back and tell Red John how far he had lowered his guard, how ready he was to move on with his life. As much as he wanted to ignore her and escape that room, he couldn't let her have the final word, not on this topic, not while Lisbon was likely standing there in renewed shock. He turned back to face his prisoner.

"Don't feel honored. It had been nine years, sweetheart; by that point, all it would have taken was any warm body."

"And yet, you chose mine."

He fished his wallet out of his inside jacket pocket, pulled out a hundred dollar bill and set it on the table in front of her.

"No, lover," he said mockingly, leaning toward her, "_you_ chose me."

Her face fell a little; no woman, no matter how low, liked to be equated with a prostitute. But then Lorelei, a much worthier opponent than he'd given her credit for, reached for the bill. He got a glimpse of painfully familiar cleavage as she pulled her t-shirt low to slip it inside her bra.

"Thanks for the loan," she said, noting with satisfaction where his eyes had been. "I'll be sure to pay Red John first chance I get." She patted her chest with renewed confidence.

Jane didn't trust himself to say another word, and her soft laughter followed him out of the interrogation room.

He stood outside in the hallway a moment, pulse racing, trying to come to grips with the huge mess he'd made of that travesty of an interrogation. His feathers were decidedly ruffled. He'd horribly underestimated Lorelei's power to get to him on a personal level. Well, that wasn't going to happen again. _Couldn't_ happen again.

Lisbon had warned him this wouldn't be easy. He knew now he had to better distance himself from the guilt he felt for sleeping with her, turn it around and use it on Lorelei. Most importantly, however, he had to make sure Lisbon wasn't witness to any more of his interrogation sessions.

"That went well," said Lisbon dryly, emerging from the observation room to stand before him.

He sheepishly met her eyes, then looked away in annoyance.

"Bite me," he muttered, walking away to find a comfortable couch where he could silently lick his wounds.

Lisbon grinned as she watched him go, but she had the surreal feeling that their roles had suddenly been reversed.

A/N: So, Lorelei obviously wins this round. But have faith in our heroes! Waterbaby's turn is next. We'll see what she can do with the mess I left :). And I'd love to hear if our styles are meshing well, whether it's too jarring a shift between our chapters.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey guys, waterbaby here. Thanks so much for all the support you've been giving Donnamour and I with this story. I'm sorry I took so long to update. I'd love to sit at home and write fanfic all day but unfortunately I have a day job that needs to be attended to as well.**

Everyone gave the interrogation room a wide berth after Jane had left it. It still had an eerie, foreboding feel about it, even though Lorelei had been taken away by Agent Darcy some hours previously. It made a twisted kind of sense to Jane. Red John left a chilling sensation everywhere he went, why should his loyal followers not do the same?

After the unmitigated disaster that had been his attempt at interviewing Lorelei, Jane endeavoured to keep a low profile for the rest of the day. It was not only disheartening to have come out of it without any progress; it was also frankly embarrassing. People would think he was losing his touch, that he really had gone around the twist during his absence.

Not that he really gave a damn about what the general population of the CBI had to say about him. He'd been muttered about, and whispered about, and judged, and criticized for his entire life. His abilities had always set him apart from other people, so he'd been forced to learn early how to let it roll off his back like water off a duck, and with most people, he was able to follow through quite successfully.

Although, the opinions of some people of course, carried more weight than others.

He could handle being sneered about by everyone in the CBI from Bertram to the janitorial staff. Could understand, if not strictly like, the new cynical attitudes from the team. Was even willing to take the flack for Luther Wainwright's untimely demise. But the thought of Lisbon watching that interview, and seeing Lorelai run rings around him was more than he could bear.

She already worried about him too much as it was. Poor, sweet, faithful Lisbon who'd he lied to, tricked, and hurt for far too long, and yet still watched his back as loyally as though he'd never put a foot wrong. And yet again, he'd failed her. Failed to put an end to these fiendish games, and send Red John somewhere he'd never be able to return from. He kept insisting with every new plan, that this was it, that this would be the day they got Red John, but every time, it came to nothing. He wasn't used to being constantly wrong, and he didn't care for it one bit.

And the really frustrating part was that he knew he should have been able to crack Lorelei. He was smarter than Lorelei. In fact, he had little hesitation in saying he was smarter than pretty much anyone (except perhaps Red John himself, if he gave credit where it was due.) Her supposed intelligence and insight all originated from Red John, who'd obviously drummed it into her until she obediently parroted his rhetoric, like all his disciples.

With Red John, she was a formidable enemy, well nigh untouchable. But without him, removed from his sphere of influence, he knew he could get through to her. He knew it. But now she'd been moved to remand and to FBI custody, it could be weeks before he got near her again. The damn FBI had no idea what they were up against, dealing with Red John. Agent Darcy thought she had the measure of things, but like so much else, she was mistaken. Even now, Red John was probably preparing his next move like the rest. He was, after all, never one to leave a loose end. They should have kept her here, where they could protect her, and he'd have gone in every day and questioned her until she gave him his answers.

"Jane?" Lisbon had emerged from her office. So ashamed was he at his failure today that he hadn't even spoken to her since their little exchange after the interview. She'd strode straight for her office and stayed there, and even after six long months in which he'd longed to be able to laze on her couch again, and listen to her tap away on her computer, he didn't follow.

He knew what she'd be thinking. After the latest Lorelei bombshell, she'd be confused, and angry, and so hurt, and instead of going in there and taking responsibility for it like a man, he preferred to sit out here and let her suffer in silence.

"Jane?" she said again, a little louder, as he lay there, feigning sleep as he'd been doing for the last two hours. Nobody had bothered him. The team were all still too angry with him, and everyone else in the office was far too occupied in gossiping about the events of the last few days to pay him any mind. He lay there and listened to them all, occasionally catching words like "Red John" or "Wainwright" and "murdered." More than once, his own name cropped up too, usually in conjunction with Lisbon's, and the things that were said chilled him even more than talk of Red John.

The question that people had asked each other most, was "why?" Why had Lisbon taken him back? Why had she allowed him to run a scheme that had resulted in the death of a colleague? Why had it hit her so hard when he'd left in the first place?

Everybody had a theory. In fact, they all had the same theory about why she'd been acting the way she had. Something that had, apparently, been suspected around the office for quite some time, and now had been proven beyond reproach.

He didn't like this theory. To be frank, it scared the living hell out of him.

"Jane!" she said, once again, even louder this time, and he gave up pretending to sleep. He couldn't ignore her forever.

"Lisbon!" he said, falsely cheerful, and with an equally false yawn. "And what reason would you have for waking me from my refreshing nap?"

"None, considering that you weren't asleep," she said.

He shrugged, neither confirming nor denying the accusation. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked.

She glanced at him sternly, apparently annoyed by his faked breeziness. "I'm going home," she said. "I think you should too."

Home. He hated that word. He didn't even have a home. His shabby long-stay motel room was never a home, and the Malibu house may have been one once, but certainly wasn't now. He had no home, he had no family, and now he'd even managed to drive away his pseudo-family.

Well, all except one.

"Maybe later," he said, evasively. "I'm just getting reacquainted with an old friend," he said, patting the couch.

"When was the last time you ate something?" she demanded of him, ignoring his previous comment completely. "I'll bet you haven't eaten for days."

"I've had tea."

"Tea is not sustaining."

"Maybe not for you," he said.

She sighed. "Stop treating me like a mark and answer the question," she said, wearily.

Jane cast his mind back. "I recall a slice of toast," he said after a while. "Three days ago maybe."

"That's what I thought," she said, softening. "Come on, it's been a long day. Let's go find a diner or something, and get you some of those eggs you like so much."

"Why?" he asked. "Why would you want to do that?" Surely she had better things to do with her time than try to soothe his wounded pride.

A pained expression flickered across her face, succeeded by an angry one. "So now I need an ulterior motive to want to spend time with you?" she snapped. "Obviously, I'm just trying to lull you into a false sense of security, while I pass information to Red John. That must be it."

"That's not funny," he said, sternly.

"I think all this time away has made you paranoid," she said. "You think everyone's out to get you. Even me." She paused, and he could tell that this thought caused her more pain than anything else. "I'm on your side, Jane," she said. "And I always have been."

"I know," he admitted, quietly.

He had been alarmed, and a little disturbed, upon his arrival in Vegas to realize just how accustomed he had become to calling out for her when he was in a tight spot. It was like a knee-jerk reaction; get into trouble, call for Lisbon.

He'd had to ease himself out of the habit, as of course; she'd hadn't been there to step in as usual. Over time, he'd gotten used to being more self-sufficient. Except he'd now apparently taken it too far. Perhaps it was time to ease himself back into it again. After all, he didn't see himself going anywhere for the foreseeable future, not with Lorelei, and the knowledge that Lisbon most likely now had a target on her back.

"OK," he said, pulling himself off the couch. "Come on, I know a place."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon toyed unenthusiastically with her burger and fries as Jane chatted to Rhonda, the waitress who'd brought them their meals, as though he hadn't a care in the world. A cheerful-looking woman in her mid-fifties, Rhonda had squealed with delight at the sight of Jane, and embraced him warmly.

"Well look what the cat dragged in," she said, as he greeted her. "Six months away, and still he takes my breath away."

"You flatter me," he said, with a grin.

"And what's this?" said Rhonda, spotting Lisbon, who'd backed away a few steps. "Patrick, you've got yourself a sweetheart!"

"I'm not his-"

"She's not my-"

"A word to the wise, dear," she went on, apparently not noticing their sudden discomfort. "Don't be fooled by his pretty face. He's far more trouble than he's worth."

"You don't have to tell me that," said Lisbon, under her breath, as they'd been lead to their table.

Rhonda had shown them to a booth near the back of the diner. "The usual, hon?" she asked Jane affectionately, who smiled his thanks.

"You know me well Rhonda," he said. "Beauty and brains. Your husband's a lucky man."

"Try telling him that," she said, comfortably. "And you just watch your mouth Patrick Jane," she said, eyes gleaming with humour. "You'll go upsetting your date."

"She's not my date," he said, easily. "We're friends." He beamed at Rhonda some more. "Besides, you know you're the only woman for me."

Rhonda rolled her eyes, but seemed to glow with pleasure at the same time. "Why, if I were ten years younger, and single," she said, with a laugh. "I could just eat you up."

She disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes, and soon returned with their food. The two of them continued to flirt shamelessly for several more minutes as Lisbon watched on, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. This evening was supposed to be a chance for them to catch up, to spend some proper time together, just the two of them, without Wainwright's death or Lorelei lurking in the background. She wanted to hear his stories about what he'd been up to in Vegas all this time. She wanted to fill him in about the cases he'd missed (and maybe rub it in his face that they'd managed to solve nearly every one of them without him. She might just leave out the part how it took a whole lot longer, and it wasn't nearly as fun without him.) She wanted them to really talk, to laugh together, to tease each other, to reconnect.

She wanted her best friend back.

But now, here she was again, shunted to the side like old garbage, while he put his time and energy into something else. It was the story of her life, really. Her unhappiness must have been evident on her face, as Rhonda cast her a curious glance and looked suddenly ashamed and apologetic.

"I should get back to work," she said. "I didn't mean to impose," she added to Lisbon quietly, and walked away.

"It's good to see her again," said Jane, scooping some eggs onto his fork. "I've been coming here for years. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to find decent eggs in Vegas. Not to mention, the wait staff are far more pleasant here," he smiled.

"I can think of one waitress you didn't mind so much," said Lisbon, crossly. "Sounded to me like she serviced you in all sorts of ways." She impaled a fry on her fork with somewhat unnecessary venom.

"It was just something I had to do, to get what I wanted," he said, quietly. "It didn't mean anything."

She'd been taking a sip of water, but as he said this, she slammed her glass down hard onto the table. "It was your first time since your wife," she said, remembering what Lorelei had said to Jane during their interview. "Of course it meant something. I know it, you know it, and _she _knows it too."

"I'm not proud of it," he said. "If that's any consolation. If I could take it back, I would." He sighed. "There's a whole bunch of things in my life I could do with a do-over on."

"Yes, well unfortunately Jane, life doesn't come with a delete button," she said. She ought to know, for she'd prayed for one many times. "You can't change it, and you can't take it back. It's done."

He put down the forkful of eggs that had been halfway to his mouth, reached across the table, and took her hand, just as he had done in the desert after their master plan had failed.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"For what?"

"Going away, shutting you out, sleeping with Lorelei…"

"Don't apologise for that," she said. "For the other things, yes, but not that. It's your life. You can do whoever you want with it." She forced a weak smile onto her face, hoping to lighten the mood.

He ignored her feeble stab at humour, and instead curled his fingers around hers even tighter.

"It hurt you," he said simply.

"That doesn't matter," she said, unconvincingly trying to brush it aside. "That's my problem."

"I don't want to hurt you anymore."

She felt like she was being X-rayed under his intense gaze. Their hands were clasped together tighter than ever, and the sounds of the busy diner around them seemed to fade into nothingness.

"I have treated you in a way that is totally inexcusable," he went on. "In my entire messed-up life, you are the only thing that I've got going for me. You'd be well within your rights to tell me to get up and leave."

"You know I can't do that," she admitted, quietly. She might still be smarting from the unpleasant revelation, but they both knew deep down he'd already been forgiven. She hated herself for her total inability to stay mad at him for anything.

She used to scoff at women that gave their men chance after chance even when they knew things weren't going to get any better. She used to tell herself that she was above that sort of nonsense, that she would never, ever allow herself to be used and abused like that.

Of course, she'd never counted on Patrick Jane, the man who gave new definition to shades of grey in the world. Jane did terrible things sometimes, but more often than not, for good reasons. He could be cold, calculating, even cruel on occasion but he could also be warm, and funny and generous when he chose it.

She'd also never counted on how he made her feel. He could make her feel like she was two inches tall, and moments later, like she was the only woman in the world. He could make her so angry, and then have her smiling again within minutes.

He was an adventure, ever changing and unpredictable. No two days were ever the same. She lived vicariously through him and his antics, always the first to volunteer to assist him with whatever scheme he was planning. Though her position demanded rules and structure, having Jane around brought craziness and insanity and fun.

There hadn't been much of that going around while he'd been gone. In fact, there hadn't been much of anything except sleepless nights, endless worry, and once, a few tears.

She should tell him to get lost, that he'd burned all his bridges with her, to leave her alone. Nobody would blame her, and many would applaud her (her team included.)

"We've been through too much," she said instead. "I'm not going to abandon you now, Jane."

He smiled ruefully. "It's more than I deserve," he said.

"Oh, stop it with the self-pity," she snapped. "It's getting on my nerves."

Surprisingly, he didn't take this opportunity to change the subject, as he normally would have done.

"For what it's worth," he said. "I don't give a damn about her. As soon as she tells us what we need to know about Red John, she can go and rot in prison forever as far as I'm concerned. It meant nothing."

"Yes it did," she said. "But it's OK. I understand."

This was true. She didn't like it, and the thought of Lorelei running those murderous hands all over him made her stomach churn, but she understood why he'd done it. He made a decision between his own life and trying to catch Red John, and as usual, Red John had won. She should be used to it by now.

"Well, while you're at it, O Wise One," said Jane, with a hint of a smile. "Start understanding this. The whole time I was gone, there was exactly one person in this world that I was thinking of, and it sure as hell wasn't Lorelei."

She wasn't entirely sure what to make of this statement. The implication was clear, but it somehow reminded her of something Lorelei had said.

"_I've slept with enough men to know when their attention is wavering, and Patrick's mind was definitely on something, or someone else." _

But surely it couldn't mean what she thought it meant. It was impossible. Lorelei must have been mistaken. He couldn't have been thinking of her while in bed with another woman. It was sick, and twisted and perverse and just plain wrong. And more to the point, he didn't feel that way about her. She was his friend. A close friend; a dear friend, but just a friend.

Another memory flickered back.

"_Good luck, Teresa. Love you."_

She shoved it away. He didn't mean it. He didn't even remember saying it.

The real Jane broke into her train of thought. "I'll get the check," he said, finally letting her hand go, and began trying to attract Rhonda's attention.

Jane napped in the passenger seat on the ride back to the CBI. Even though darkness had long since fallen, and she'd offered to drop him right at his place, he'd insisted she take him back there. He said he wanted to pick up his car so she wouldn't have to come get him in the morning. She knew it was crap. He was going to sleep in the attic again. She'd half-entertained the idea of asking him if he wanted to stay at her place tonight, but she knew he'd refuse.

They pulled up at a stoplight, and she took the chance to survey him under the strong beam of a streetlamp. Exhausted and dishevelled, still with bits of the desert stuck to his suit, and a half-healed black eye, he was a mess. With his scruffy hair, and the faintest bit of stubble on his chin, he looked nothing like the man she used to know, who'd always been impeccably groomed. He looked like a man who'd let himself go.

She felt her heart squeeze itself as he sighed in his sleep. Not so long ago, she'd been under the impression she was never going to see him again. Not so long before that, on one cold, lonely night after sending him yet another text message, she had admitted to herself what many in the office had already guessed.

There was only one possible explanation for why it had hurt her so much when he was gone. Why she'd never stopped hoping he'd come back to her, even when the rest of the team gave up.

And this was her greatest failing of all.

It went against her better judgement, her good sense, and her will. It could lead to nothing but trouble and heartbreak for her. It was nothing short of utter madness.

A car behind her honked its horn. The light had turned green.

Jane awoke just as they pulled up at the CBI. He blinked sleepily for a few moments as she turned off the ignition.

"Thanks for the ride, Lisbon," he said. "And thanks for getting me out for a while. I needed it."

"I know. But I was hoping it would be a little less…"

"Depressing?" he supplied, and she nodded.

"Next time we'll go do something you like to do," he said. "We can go and chase after some bad guys, or shoot guns." He looked pale at the very thought. "Or maybe you could do those things and I could watch you," he amended, and she smiled for the first time in quite some time.

"Or maybe we could just go get a drink somewhere, or see a movie," she suggested. "You know, things normal people like to do with friends."

"Or we could do that."

"Are you sure you don't want me to take you to your apartment?" she asked again. "It's on the way to my place anyway."

"I'll be fine here," he said, and unclipped his seatbelt. "Goodnight."

He opened the door, and was halfway out of it when she said in a rush: "If you need anything, call me. Even if you just want to talk, no matter what time it is."

He turned back from the door, leaned over the console, and (somewhat awkwardly, due to the steering wheel) wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him.

She couldn't help thinking of the last time he'd hugged her, a brief embrace before a gunshot. This time, he held her to him for a long time, long enough for her to get over the surprise and relax into his embrace. She felt him rubbing circles on her back, and her heart slamming against her chest.

"You need to stop worrying about me so much," he said, quietly. "It's not good for you."

"Stop _making_ me worry about you so much," she said, burying her face into the crook of his neck. "Just every now and then, take a break from being you."

"You know I can't do that," he said, parroting her words from earlier in the evening.

She let out a strangled chuckle, and gently slapped him upside the head. "You're a jerk."

"But you love me anyway," he said.

She couldn't answer that, because it was true.

For the first time, she started to feel some of the weariness and worry ebb away. From now on, she was going to ditch chamomile tea for stress relief, and go get a hug from Jane instead. She could have stayed like this with him all night.

After several more moments of bliss, she felt him start to loosen his hold. Reluctantly, she allowed the separation.

"Goodnight, Jane," she said.

"Goodnight," he said again. But he made no further move to exit the car. Instead he stayed right where he was, eyes raking over her face. She could practically see that brilliant mind of his ticking over. For the billionth time, she wished she could climb in there and see what he was thinking. Did he know how she felt about him? Did he suspect?

"Aren't you getting out?" she asked.

"In a minute. I'm having an epiphany."

"An epiphany?"

"Yes."

She waited for further enlightenment on this intriguing subject, but it never came. Instead he leaned over again and pressed a kiss to her cheek, and then another one a little lower, a breath away from the side of her lips. If she just turned her head a fraction, she'd be kissing him for real. He must have felt the shiver of excitement that ran through her at this thrilling prospect, especially since he'd lingered a fair bit longer than necessary after the second one.

"Interesting," he said, still so close, his breath was tickling her face. "Very interesting."

"What was your epiphany?" she breathed.

"You really, _really_ need to stop worrying," he said and shot her the full-force, Patrick Jane patented smile. God how she'd missed it. She'd never realized how much it had been lighting up her days until it was gone.

"I'm going to go," he whispered. "I'll see you in the morning."

He slammed the door shut behind him, and she watched him through the door into the building. The second he was out of sight, she buried her face in her hands.

It didn't mean anything. Friends hugged each other, after all. They kissed each other on the cheek. Maybe they didn't necessarily kiss each other twice, and linger a really long time after the second one, but Jane never did anything like normal people.

She knew Jane better than anyone. She had been in love with him for a long time. She acknowledged that now. But that didn't mean he reciprocated.

Only when he reached the attic, did Jane allow himself to think about what had just happened. It was probably the most intimate thing he had done with a woman in years.

The sex with Lorelei had been just that, sex. Nothing to write home about; nothing to get excited about. But this, pushing the boundaries with Lisbon farther than they'd ever been pushed, seeing the way she reacted to his close proximity, almost kissing her, but not quite, that had turned him on far more than Lorelei could have ever done.

He made a mental note to bring that up in their next interview.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! Donna's up next!**


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This chapter sort of ran away with me, and became much longer than usual; hope you don't mind ;). Waterbaby and I were very pleased at the reception of the near-kiss in the last chapter, along with all your wonderful reviews, favorites, and alerts. Thanks so much!

**Chapter 4**

ADX Death Valley was a supermax women's Federal Detention Center, built in the likeness of its masculine counterpart in Florence, Colorado. Jane was duly impressed (an experienced jailbird himself) at its imposing high razor wire topped fences and even higher walls as he stopped at the guardhouse and handed over his two forms of ID. While those were being carefully scrutinized, another heavily armed guard set his leashed German shepherd to sniffing around his Citroen. The guardhouse men perused his CBI card as well as his driver's license, cross-referenced them with computer records, gave him the eye at least twice, and returned them with a still-suspicious nod, waving him through the sliding electric fence. The entire process took a grand total of eight minutes, twenty-five seconds.

Jane parked in the nearly empty lot of the huge prison. He had heard that Lorelei Martins was its first and only prisoner. A familiar woman exited the main building and walked across the parking lot to meet him. He opened his car door, and the desert heat of Death Valley greeted him, nearly taking away his breath. He got out, feeling the sweat immediately gather at his brow as he smiled in greeting, opting to leave his suit coat in the car.

"Susan," he said, genuinely surprised to see her. "Nice to see a friendly face after that Mossad-like greeting at the gate."

Agent Darcy smirked slightly, shaking his hand. "Yeah, well, it's not called _supermax _for nothing." They began walking back toward the entrance, and once inside, Jane had to show his ID yet again to the control desk guard before going through a metal detector.

The nearly empty building was eerily quiet. "We were lucky to get this place," Darcy continued, once they'd both passed through security. "It's set to open in two weeks, so we have it all to ourselves until then. If we didn't have her on federal kidnapping charges, she'd be awaiting trial in a minimum security pen in Nevada. Given her association with a known serial killer, the Bureau thought it was an ideal location to protect Miss Martins, considering the fate of Red John's other cohorts that have been captured."

Jane nodded as they stopped before an elevator. "Good thinking; I had the same concern. Oh, and let me formally thank you for getting me out of those charges in Vegas."

"It wasn't easy," she said, entering the elevator and pressing the button for Sub-Floor Two. "But the Nevada AG decided to extend you a professional courtesy, given your association with the CBI. The cop whose face you punched had a real problem with your untimely exit, however."

Jane shrugged sheepishly. "I'll send him a fruit basket."

She almost laughed.

"I'm surprised to see you here, Susan. I figured, after the unfortunate incident with Wainwright, you'd want to step away from the Red John case for awhile." He was actually being disingenuous; he knew she wasn't the kind to give up.

"Are you kidding? I want that bastard now more than ever. And since I'm banned from the field until the investigation into Luther's death is concluded, I requested my desk confinement be here instead of the office in Sacramento."

"How resourceful of you," he said, in true admiration. She could have decided to be very angry with him, after all his lies and deceptions, could have even blamed him for the accidental shooting of Luther Wainwright. Now that she knew first-hand what Red John was capable of, she seemed to have come around to his way of thinking. Very Lisbon-esque of her.

The elevator slid open and they walked down sterile white corridors that smelled of fresh paint and oiled metal. Along the walls were doors that resembled large submarine hatches that would secure future inmates to solitary confinement twenty-three hours a day. Jane knew it would be a punishing existence, but for those who were too volatile and unmanageable for lesser prisons, and for those who were in danger from other inmates, or forces outside the razor wire, this was an ideal situation. Besides, it was no less than people like murderers, terrorists, serial killers, and Lorelei deserved.

Darcy stopped at an interrogation room where Jane could see through the one-way window that Lorelei was already waiting for him, handcuffed to the table before her, her small ankles encased tightly in manacles. He felt a sickening pang in his gut at the sight of her, but his determination to tear her apart psychologically outweighed his sudden attack of nerves.

"She still refusing a lawyer?" he asked.

"Yes, which makes our task somewhat easier, I suppose. You know, Patrick, I was disappointed that the CBI _forgot_ to record your interviews with her when she was in Sacramento." She shot him a look of mild exasperation.

"Oops," said Jane unapologetically.

He'd seen to it that Lisbon's taped interrogation had mysteriously disappeared, and when he had spoken to Lorelei last, he'd merely neglected to press the _record_ button. He really was glad Darcy didn't have access to the personal stuff they'd discussed, not to mention the additional embarrassment of his last failed interview.

"You didn't miss much," he hastened to reassure her. "She's been well indoctrinated by Red John. I've had some experience deprogramming so-called brainwash victims, but she's an entirely different case. I see some evidence that she might have been hypnotized, but her devotion to Red John seems completely voluntary. You don't get that wild-eyed craziness that I've seen in his other disciples."

"Hmm. I've seen what you mean. In my interviews with her, she struck me as highly intelligent, though not highly educated. Nothing in her background indicates that she has been a danger to anyone in the past. She was kicked out by her parents at age seventeen after she got pregnant. Medical records state she lost the child, but she never returned to her family home in LA. Since then, she's travelled all over California and Nevada like a gypsy, mainly holding down waitress jobs, except for a brief stint as a showgirl in Vegas."

Jane nodded. Van Pelt had done a similar background check for him, and the file was in the backseat of his Citroen, despite the fact he'd committed it to memory.

"Let me guess—she's revealed nothing about her initial meeting with Red John."

"Nope. She'll pleasantly talk about a variety of benign topics, but except for the usual dogma about Red John's quest to enlighten the world, she's a locked box. I've already had some of the FBI's best interrogators on her without success. You really think you can open her up?"

"Yes," he said confidently. "But it will take some time to chip away at her defences, to find a way to make her trust that I only have her best interests at heart. That's why I'm here for two weeks."

"Lisbon didn't come with you? I'm surprised. I thought you two were joined at the brain. Well, except for that six-month sabbatical you took."

"She's working on a case," he said noncommittally, ignoring that last jab.

In truth, he was torn about leaving Lisbon again so soon, but if he wanted to avoid a repeat of his last disastrous interrogation session, it was probably best she was safely back at CBI headquarters. But he found that she was all he could think about during the eight-hour drive, as he remembered in vivid detail how soft her cheek had felt beneath his lips, how lovely and dazed her green eyes had been before he'd gotten out of the car several nights before.

They'd barely spoken to each other since, and a strange awkwardness had settled between them, so that in some ways their newest separation was somewhat of a relief. He knew from their conversation in the diner that she'd forgiven him, but it seemed that with his slightly more than friendly kisses, they'd taken another step backward. She'd been skittish as a little fawn ever since, and he had been equally distant. He shook his head; they were quite a pair.

But he couldn't afford to focus on that particular frustration, not with the serious business at hand. Breaking Lorelei would require limited distractions, and it was terrifying just how distracting Teresa Lisbon had suddenly become.

Darcy nodded toward Lorelei. "You ready?"

Jane allowed himself a deep, cleansing breath before smiling disarmingly at Agent Darcy. "Ready or not...Oh, and Susan." He hesitated, something Jane rarely did. "I might say some things in there that could be stretching the truth a bit. Just to get a rise out of our prisoner, you understand."

"No need to explain, Patrick," she said dryly. "I've got my grains of salt all ready."

"Thanks," he said, and his grin returned.

Darcy instructed one of the two guards to open the door to the small room where Lorelei waited impatiently in her prison issue, khaki jumpsuit, one of her small, slip-on sneakers tapping on the tile floor. Her smile upon seeing Jane was big as Texas and no doubt as genuine. Her eyes sparkled as if meeting a long-lost friend.

"Patrick! You haven't forgotten about me after all."

"Lorelei. You look lovely as ever," Jane said pleasantly. "Settling in?" He took a seat in the chair across from her.

"It's not the MGM Grand, but it has all the necessities and three squares a day. I've stayed in much worse, believe me. It's actually been nice to be alone with my thoughts, sort of like a mini vacation."

"Well," said Jane. "Glad we could oblige. You know, I _have_ been thinking about you quite a lot lately. I think there are a few things you should know about Red John that perhaps you don't already."

Lorelei sat back in her chair, one sceptical eyebrow rising at his words. "That's the tack you're taking, eh? I'm disappointed in you, Patrick. Red John has told me everything about himself. We're very close, he and I. Nothing you could possibly say would shock me or make me love him any less."

"Humor me, will you?"

She shrugged. "Sure. What else do I have to do?"

"Thank you. Tell me, do you know how many known victims Red John been either directly or indirectly responsible for? How many he has butchered like they were animals, or shot, or poisoned, or had burned alive? Do you know?"

"No," she said softly, but her eyes had grown suddenly cold.

"Thirty-three; many of them innocent young women like yourself."

"They deserved it, I'm sure. Justice can be harsh sometimes."

"How about young children?" he ventured. "Do they deserve to be carved up and left to bleed to death?"

"You're speaking of _your_ child, Patrick. I know all about it. It was truly a shame you had to go and slander Red John. You brought on her death yourself, you know."

"You really believe that? Children should be sacrificed for the sake of Red John's ego?"

She remained stubbornly silent, so he went on. "What if it had been _your_ child?"

Her stare was no longer so blank. "What?"

"You had a child too, didn't you? A girl, like my Charlotte? You named her Hailey. She died in your arms two days after she was born. You think she died because of your mistakes?"

"Yes," she said, her eyes watering. "I mean, I should have taken better care of myself while I was pregnant. Sort of hard though when you're living on the streets..."

"You wish your daddy had been there to take care of you along with your unborn child? What about Hailey's father? Where was he?"

"My father was a judgemental old fool who deserved the heart attack he died of five years ago," she said angrily. "As for the father of my child—he knocked me up after a one-night stand. He didn't deserve to be involved in her life, or in mine."

"But Red John's been like the father you always wanted, hasn't he? Taken care of you, seen to your every need, right? In return, you allow him to control your every thought, your every action. He even prostitutes you out from time to time, doesn't he? Is that a fair trade? Is that the behavior of a loving father figure?"

She refused to answer, and he allowed his questions to hang in the air for a few moments, until he could almost hear her calculating mind working, could see her eyes taking on a confident glow.

"Nicely done, Patrick, bringing up my daddy issues. You have some of those yourself, don't you? From what I hear, your father made you rip off old ladies and invalids in your carnie days, didn't he? He made you the fine man you are today." Her comment was liberally laced with sarcasm.

He briefly gritted his teeth, but then he smiled, leaning forward upon the table that separated them.

"We've already established that I've made mistakes. But none of what either of us has done justifies the deaths of our children, does it?"

When she didn't respond, he knew he'd made his point. But Lorelei wasn't one to simply give up; she was too well-trained by her master to do that.

"Tell me, how did Agent Lisbon enjoy our last little talk?"

_And here we go again, _he thought, but he was better prepared this time. And Lisbon wasn't looking over his shoulder now, distracting him.

"She was pretty disappointed, actually. You didn't give her any new information to help us capture your benefactor." He was being purposefully obtuse, and he actually got an eye roll out of her.

"I was actually meaning the revelation that you'd been saving yourself for me," she clarified.

"Funny you should mention revelations. I had one myself the other day."

"Oh?" she said, amused. "Do tell."

"It would seem your attempts to discredit me in front of her have had the exact opposite effect. I've discovered that absence has made my heart grow fonder-fonder in fact than I had even imagined possible, but not for you, I'm afraid. I'm in love with Teresa Lisbon, you see, and I guess I have you to thank for it."

She laughed in disbelief. "No way. That's priceless, really." She shook her head in wonder. "And does the lovely Miss Lisbon feel the same?"

"Yes, I believe so. After I kissed her the other day, it seemed pretty apparent. You'll have to ask her though, when next you meet."

_Which will be the day after never, if I have anything to say about it._

"Huh. I'm happy for you, really, Patrick. Red John and I both agree it is long past time you found someone new and stopped pining for your dead wife. I do find it hard to believe that Teresa is going to forgive our little indiscretion so quickly, though. She seems to be a woman who values her own self-worth too much to fall for an emotionally crippled, vengeful narcissist like you."

Despite the truth in her hurtful words, Jane grinned. She was good at this. "Your jealousy is showing."

"I've no reason to be jealous, lover. I've had the best, and believe me, it wasn't you."

"And where is he now, this paragon of the bedroom? Why hasn't he rescued you yet? Or, more in keeping with tradition, why aren't you dead?"

"You did manage to isolate me in the country's newest supermax prison," she suggested. "A rescue mission will take some planning, even for him. That should explain why I'm still alive. Obviously, he loves me."

"Or, maybe he just doesn't care. Maybe he's not worried that you are close enough to him to think twice about, that he hasn't shared anything of actual importance with you that we can extract. He allowed you to be captured, didn't he? Or, alternatively, with this tight security, you owe us your life because we're in effect, protecting you."

"_Or_," she added caustically, "maybe he's kept me alive because he knows I can mess with your mind just as easily as he's always done with you. From our last conversation, Patrick, you know I'm right."

Jane put on a look of pity. "Why don't we test my theory first? We'll let security go lax. Give him every opportunity to save you. Or...kill you."

"You're bluffing. The Feds wouldn't let me go, and they believe they're protecting me just like you said."

"Are they? If we loosened security, say, _accidentally_ left the front door open, it would be like putting out the welcome mat for him. Hopefully, we'd be fast enough to catch him before he smeared poison on your arm like he did Rebecca, or set you on fire, like he did Todd Johnson. Or maybe he'll simply cut you up like he did Jared Renfrew. Anyone of Red John's followers who has ever been captured, or has information that could lead us to him, has been killed in a horrible way. I fear for your life, Lorelei, I really do."

"Nice to know you care," she said, but the good humor had gone from her eyes, and he detected an involuntary spark of fear there as he'd detailed the possibilities. It took her a moment to collect herself, and when she did, she let out a loud, pretend yawn. She covered her mouth.

"Oh, pardon me. Much as I'd like to continue this conversation, it's about time for my afternoon nap. You mind?"

Jane met the eyes of one of the guards. "No problem at all. I'll be back tomorrow."

Her eyes widened, but not with pleasure.

"Yeah, I've got two weeks to spend with Red John's favorite girl," he said happily. He reached out to touch her hand, pleased to note it was ice cold, and he was pretty sure it wasn't because of the air conditioning.

"In the meantime, watch your back..." He winked at her conspiratorially.

Both guards entered then, escorting her out of the interrogation room and down the hallway. He could hear the echo of her rattling chains for some time. Jane let out a satisfied sigh, pleased that he'd been the one to get to her this time. The first step in deprogramming her would be to begin to tear down her image of Red John, make her see that she meant nothing to him. He would help her to understand why she had been devoted to such a monster, and slowly begin to extricate him from his role as savior. Next, he must make her so paranoid she would turn to him for help, thus gaining his trust by singing like a proverbial bird. He felt confident that he'd laid the groundwork for his multi-pronged attack.

He turned to look at the black window behind him.

"Well?" he asked.

"Bravo," said Lisbon, stepping into the room with him. "Score one for our side."

"Lisbon," he said, numbly rising to his feet. "How-?"

She smiled, taking great pleasure in watching his cheeks flush a little in embarrassment, somewhat for being taken off guard, but mostly for his latest confession to Lorelei that she had obviously witnessed.

"I thought you were working a case," he said. Darcy joined them, her own Cheshire cat grin spreading across her face. He shot her a look of annoyance at her deception.

"How does it feel to be denied important information?" Darcy asked triumphantly. Jane ignored her.

"Cho's got it." Lisbon replied to his supposition. "I decided helping you with Lorelei was more important, don't you agree?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure. How long are you staying?"

"Two weeks, or until you break her—whichever comes first."

"I appreciate your confidence."

"Well, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone," said Darcy dryly. "I've got a few calls to make. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," said Lisbon and Jane in unison, which only made Darcy's smile widen in amusement.

"Thanks, Susan," said Lisbon.

"You're welcome—both of you. I assume you can find your way out. Good night."

"Night."

They watched her leave, the familiar awkwardness returning. Finally, he met her eyes, despite the rather large elephant in the room.

"Why the ruse?" He asked, suddenly feeling a little miffed with her. "We could have ridden together."

He held the interrogation room door open for her and she walked out, then waited as he caught up and they made their way down the unnaturally quiet corridor side by side, their shoes clopping loudly on the industrial tile floor.

"Things have been...strange between us since you got back. And then, the other night...Frankly, the idea of an eight-hour trip alone with you seemed, well..._daunting_."

So, she couldn't even bear to spend time in a car with him? Jane added hurt to his list of swirling emotions

"And...?" he prompted as they stood before the elevator, because he knew that wasn't the only reason she'd kept her travel plans secret.

"And I knew you really didn't want me to be here," she finished in a rush, just as the elevator dinged its arrival and the door slid open.

It was true, but he had to ask: "Why would you say that?"

The elevator started rising, and he turned to look at her. She looked lovely today, in a sage green Henley beneath a lightweight gray blazer jacket and matching slacks. Her gold crucifix glinted in the dim light, and his eyes were briefly drawn there, where her blouse was open to the fourth button, leaving an enticing _V. _ He met her eyes, reflecting the green of her top beneath straight, dark bangs.

"Because you didn't like me hearing the intimate details of your relationship with that—"_slut? Whore? Bitch?-"_woman," she finished tightly.

"There was no _relationship_. I was using her."

She laughed without humor. "Well that makes it okay, then."

He sighed. "Please, Teresa, can we just stop talking about that? It's true; I didn't want you here, mainly because I find that now the whole topic rather uncomfortable for me. I did what I thought I had to do to gain her and Red John's trust. Would I do it again? I don't know. Depends on what I can extract from her. Hell, I'd sleep with Red John if it meant the chance to—"

"Please, just don't finish that thought," she said, holding up her hands in surrender, but this time there was real amusement in her expression; he could tell by the dimple. He smiled in return. Impulsively, he reached for her hands, lacing his fingers briefly through them until their palms touched. He felt her pulse jump, then race beneath her delicate wrist. He wondered if she could feel his doing the same.

"You hungry?" he asked, riding on the coattails of her returned good humor. Besides, he hadn't eaten since he'd driven through a fast-food joint at noon, and it was well past six o'clock. He dropped her hands reluctantly when the elevator came to a stop.

"Yes, actually. I skipped lunch so I was sure to beat you here."

He shook his head ruefully at her sacrifice to carry out her plan.

"It seems that lately we can relate better over a meal," he commented as they walked out into the heat, still over a hundred degrees even this late in the evening.

She nodded. "Susan said the restaurant at our motel is pretty good. I'll meet you there. My car is parked in the employee garage," she told him, jabbing her thumb in the direction of the nearby building.

"Wait—_our_ motel?"

"Yeah. Van Pelt told me where you booked your room..." If he asked about her flushed face, she would blame it on the heat.

"Well, I guess I'll see you there, then," he told her with a small smile, then walked toward his car, already dreading getting inside its oven like interior.

"See ya," Lisbon murmured in satisfaction. It felt very rewarding to have pulled one over on the great Patrick Jane.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She hadn't asked him about what he'd said to Lorelei during his interrogation that day, but he knew she was thinking about it. Hell, he could think of little else while they chatted about the case she'd left in the rest of the team's capable hands. He was still thinking about it when their cheeseburgers had arrived in the booth of the nondescript restaurant adjacent to their nondescript motel. He was still thinking about it when he'd walked her to her door later, just two down from his.

He'd been tempted to kiss her cheek again, or maybe even take the chance and find her mouth with his. Instead, he'd settled on a final caution about the pervasive scorpions in the area, and she'd quipped that she'd always hated that band anyway. It was a lame joke to deflect what they were both really feeling, what they really wanted to be talking about instead.

She'd heard him say that he loved her, that he suspected she loved him too. He longed to tell her that he'd meant it, that it wasn't just a way to get Lorelei off the subject for good. He supposed he could simply come right out and say it, confess all and wait, trembling, while she decided whether to believe him or not. But he didn't know how he'd be able to handle rejection from her, and so he'd said nothing and left her with visions of wayward scorpions slipping under her door while she slept.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

At two a.m., Lisbon awoke, drenched in a sweat. It took her a few disoriented moments to realize that she was hot because the window unit air conditioner was no longer working. She wiped at her brow and got up, fiddled with the controls for a few minutes, before grabbing the bedside phone and calling the front desk.

"Sorry, ma'am. Our heat and air guy doesn't come in until eight in the morning. Is your ceiling fan working?"

"Sure," she said in annoyance. "But it hardly makes a difference when it's ninety-five degrees outside."

"I'd move you to another room, but we're totally booked. You're welcome to cool off in the lounge or maybe you could ask that friend you came with—Mr. Jane was it?—if you could share his room. Other than that, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do tonight. I'll give you a refund for the night and try to relocate you tomorrow if it can't be fixed. Again, my apologies."

She sighed. "Thanks, anyway. I guess these things happen."

Resigned to her fate, she changed from her sweaty football jersey nightshirt to a tank top and shorts, slipped on her flip-flop sandals, grabbed her room key and walked outside to find Jane's room. He was probably awake anyway, and when she saw the light on beneath the door, she knocked softly. When he didn't come to open it, she knocked harder, and called for him, hoping she wouldn't disturb the other guests. She was about to give up when she heard a splash in the swimming pool across from their rooms.

She'd noticed earlier that the pool closed at eleven, and all the lights were off around it save a lone security lamp nearby. Naturally suspicious, especially when someone was blatantly violating a rule, she wandered over to the gate and saw that the pool's occupant was busy swimming laps. The swimmer was methodical, doing the breaststroke with perfect form, the water sluicing over his pale, lithe muscles as he reached one end, then somersaulted beneath the surface to emerge again, halfway to the other side. There was something familiar about him, but it wasn't until she witnessed a tenth lap that she realized she had been ogling Patrick Jane.

Naturally, that was the very moment he chose to end his exercise, stopping at the edge of the shallow end, smoothing back the slick hair that had fallen in his eyes. Of course, his gaze went immediately to the figure standing at the gate, and he grinned when he saw that it was none other than the lady of his thoughts.

"Hey, Lisbon," he called. "You should join me—the water's great!"

She was grateful the dim light hid her embarrassment. "I don't have a bathing suit," she replied.

"Me neither," he said, and he laughed at her expression. "I'm not skinny dipping; I'm wearing shorts. Just come in as you are; you won't be sorry."

She _was_ still incredibly hot, and despite the fact that the sun had been down for hours, it still felt like she was slowly roasting out there.

She tapped the sign on the gate meaningfully. "In case you can't read, the pool's supposed to be closed."

"What can I say, Lisbon? I'm a man who likes to live on the edge."

He was making fun of her inherent, by-the-book mentality. She frowned in annoyance as well as burgeoning temptation.

"Come on, Lisbon; live a little. I dare you. I _double-dog_ dare you."

Well, that did it. She opened the gate, flinching and looking around nervously as it squeaked in protest. His soft chuckle irritated her to no end. She kicked off her sandals, carefully setting her room key on the patio table, and, before she could change her mind, dove cleanly into the deep end of the pool. The water was cool and refreshing, and she broke the surface at the shallow end with a sound of pure contentment.

"What did I tell ya?" Jane asked, and he was much closer to her than she'd realized.

She pushed back her hair and looked at him. She'd only seen him shirtless on one other occasion—that time when he'd nearly drowned and the paramedics had needed to work on his bare chest. She had been so frightened of losing him that day, the pain of that moment just as sharp as when he'd stepped into that CBI elevator six months ago. Seeing him now, standing in the shallow water of their motel swimming pool, half-naked and smiling, made her heart squeeze in gratitude that he was here with her, safe and sound, hers alone once more.

She saw his eyes lower to her breasts, clearly visible now through her wet, white tank top, and felt stunned by the impact of her desire. She felt the water lapping sensuously against her torso as she moved even closer to him, but he just stood there, frozen in place, trying to read her intentions in the near-darkness.

"Lisbon?" he whispered uncertainly, his breath catching in his throat.

She walked the last few steps until she was standing right in front of him. She reached out with both hands, watching in fascination as she slid them up his lightly muscled arms and then over to his chest, smooth and wet and pleasantly defined. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her hand and she looked boldly up into his unfathomable eyes.

She couldn't believe she was doing this, touching him as she had in countless dreams—let alone that he was letting her. Her hands found their way to his neck, warm despite the coolness of the water. Wet, Jane's hair was silky and straight, slippery beneath her fingers. His eyes were closed now, his breathing unsteady, as he patiently waited for what she might do next.

Lisbon's own eyelids drooped closed, and she found herself going up on tiptoe to press her seeking lips to his experimentally. When he didn't move to return her tentative kiss, she pulled back slightly to gauge his reaction. If he hadn't been fairly panting by now, she would have swum away in mortification. But his hands now rested on her tiny waist, and his eyes glittered down at her with desire...and encouragement.

It occurred to Lisbon that he was letting her set the pace, likely fearful that he'd frighten her away if he let himself do what his body was telling him to do. She knew the feeling well, but she chose to be brave enough for the both of them, and found his full lips again. This time, she wrapped her arms about his neck, using her buoyancy in the water to bring her body closer to his, pleased when he moaned against her mouth and pulled her tightly against him. His lips parted, and she didn't hesitate to slide her tongue inside, the feel of the hot interior of his mouth a delicious contradiction to the cool water around them.

She felt him walking backward toward the end of the pool, carrying her with him, and when he found the tiled edge, he set her out of the water and onto her bottom, her legs parting, her feet dangling in the water. His hands roamed her body, until he slipped them beneath her shirt to caress her finely toned back. His kisses became wilder then, more passionate, and she felt like she was becoming drunk with them.

Her own hands moved between their bodies, and he trembled when they explored his flat stomach, fairly shook when they hovered around the waistband of his navy blue shorts.

"Lisbon," he breathed, tearing his mouth away and bringing his hands down to cover hers. His dropped his forehead against hers, their ragged breathing making them both lightheaded.

"What are we doing?" he whispered harshly.

"Well," she said with a tremulous laugh, "if you have to ask..."

A/N: There is actually no women's supermax prison in the US, but there is a men's in Colorado, like I mentioned. I figured that if they had to keep Lorelei from getting killed while they got information from her, they had to find someplace virtually impenetrable, and so I had to invent one. I also did some research on deprogramming brainwash victims, and while there is some controversy over whether someone can truly be brainwashed, there are plenty of agencies out there that work to help people who have been in cults. I hope Jane's approach here rings true, because while I doubt he really wants to help her, he realizes that in order to get what he wants from her, he has to get her to let go of Red John's power over her.

Anyway, thanks for reading this. I hope you enjoyed it enough to review. I've left it hanging so waterbaby can have a juicy part to play off of. I'm sure she'll do an excellent job. Please stay tuned...

P.S. If you loved waterbaby134's great fic, "It Takes a Village," please vote for her in the CastleTv dot net awards! She is certainly well-deserving!


	5. Chapter 5

**After Donna's smoking hot last instalment, and that admittedly rather cruel cliffhanger, I had a feeling you guys were clamouring to know what happens next, so I devoted my entire weekend off to this chapter. I hope you like it.**

**Chapter 5**

Silence fell but for the steady drip of water from their bodies and clothes, back into the pool where he stood, still holding her tightly by the waist, despite the apparent attack of conscience.

"You know what I mean," he said quietly. "This…_us_…it just doesn't fit."

"I hate to disagree with you, Jane," she said, "but I think we fit together pretty well. In fact," She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "I think you underestimate just how good a fit we could be."

She went to kiss him again, but he jerked his head away from her and shuffled back a step or two in the water to allow himself some breathing space.

"I can't offer you anything," he said. "I can't give you what you need, or what you deserve."

"And what is that exactly?" she asked.

"Stability," he said. "Security. Someone who'd never hurt you."

"Well maybe I don't want those things," she said. "Maybe I want someone fun, exciting. Someone who likes to live on the edge."

He flinched as she threw his own words back at him once again. What did she do, memorize everything he said so she could use it against him at the most inopportune moments?

"You don't know what you want," he said.

"Don't I?"

She slid off the side and back into the water, ducking briefly under the surface. As she re-emerged, she threw her head back, her neck forming a graceful arc as she swept her hair out of her eyes like a mermaid, or some kind of water goddess.

He watched her, entranced by the alluring way she moved.

"The thing is, Jane," she said. "You don't know me as well as you think you do. Not anymore."

She took a step towards him. Six months ago, she would never have dared to speak to him like this. She would never have agreed to take this little dip with him. Certainly would never have initiated a kiss. But now she knew what it was like to be without him, she wasn't keen for a repeat.

"You were gone for a long time," she said. "It gave me an opportunity to think."

"About what?" he asked.

"You, mostly," she said, mildly. "And whether you really know what you want."

"Of course I do," he said. "Red John taken out. Dead."

She took another step forward. "And what else?"

This was too much for Jane, who immediately seized her and resumed their frenzied kissing, gripping her, as though afraid she'd melt away or sink. She wrapped her legs around him, both his strong grip and the water working in tandem to keep her at exactly the right height for her to clutch his face with her hands and pull him deeper and deeper into the kiss.

He pulled her body flush against his, and then lowered his lips to her neck, delighting in her little cries of ecstasy as he kissed it, nibbled it with his lips, and tickled it with his tongue. His fingers crawled under the back of her tank top, gently teasing it away from where it was sticking to her soaked skin. She didn't protest; instead she sighed and shuddered and moaned as it slowly peeled away, inch by inch.

"Oh God," she whispered, as he ran his hands up and down her back, wanting to touch every inch of her soft skin, to savour every single second of this, while it lasted.

"Just 'Patrick' is fine," he murmured, and she laughed a little hysterically, before lunging forward and capturing his mouth again with hers. They kissed until every last scrap of oxygen was gone from their lungs.

"You'll pay for that one," she said, through ragged breaths.

"And what are you going to do, kiss me to death?" he asked, equally hoarsely.

She smiled. "Exactly."

She wound her arms around his neck again and began to drop little, light, teasing kisses on his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, his nose, his neck, his shoulders, his collarbone, his chest, each time making contact no longer than half a second. The places her lips touched tingled and burned. She was going far too slow, the pace was killing him. He groaned involuntarily, as they landed on his nipple and then kept descending.

"You're good," he managed to pant.

"You haven't seen anything yet," she said, with a wicked smile, and her hands travelled down his bare chest again, exploring every crevasse until they landed on the hem of his shorts, so dangerously close to the point of no return.

It had been a long time since she'd been so aggressive with a man. She'd done OK sexually over the last few years, but with Mashburn, and the other two faceless men she'd had one-night stands with, she had always been the one chased. They had always been the ones to do all the pursuing, all the seducing, and she'd let them. The attention was flattering, particularly with billionaire, notorious, beautiful-womanizer Mashburn, and the sex had been satisfying enough.

It was gratifying to know that she still had the ability to have a man right where she wanted him, as she felt Jane trembling against her, waiting for her to choose her next move. Never had she been in such a position with Jane before, both literally, and in the sense that she was fully in control. She was pretty sure he would agree to anything she wanted right now. She wasn't used to possessing such power over him, but it felt good.

Her hands slipped under his shorts and settled on the tops of his thighs. He made an odd noise somewhere between a sigh and a grunt, and then he kissed her yet again, slowly and passionately, and his fingers, still underneath her top, began to creep around her torso until they cupped her breast.

This was starting to get out of hand. Call her unadventurous or boring, but she wasn't the kind of woman who had sex in the swimming pool of a cheap motel. She had _some_ standards.

Or she'd used to, before Patrick Jane swaggered into her life and shot them all to hell.

She parted their lips, ignoring his protests. "I'm kind of tired of swimming," she said, quietly.

"But you look so good when you're wet," he replied.

She fished her hands out of his shorts again, and laid them flat on his chest, looking up at him through her lashes. Reluctantly, he followed suit, and unpeeled his hand from her breast.

"We should get some sleep," she said, not even convincing herself. "We have work to do in the morning."

"You're right," he said, with a solemn nod. "We should. But you know-" he went on, gently sliding one of the spaghetti straps of her top down her shoulder-"it's probably pushing three in the morning by now. Is there really any point?"

"Well, what else are we supposed to do in the middle of the night?" she asked.

"You're the boss," he breathed against her skin. "You tell me."

A narrow beam of light sliced across the surface of the water, hitting Lisbon right in the eyes. She gave a little cry of pain, as she raised a hand to shield them from the sudden brilliance.

"Hey!" came a stern voice, from the vicinity of the light. "Can't you people read?" The silhouette of the man from the front desk slowly became discernible as he approached the pool fence. "The pool closes at eleven. Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Time for you to put that damn flashlight down before I beat you over the head with it," said Lisbon.

"She's not kidding," Jane advised him when he didn't immediately lower the flashlight. "I'd do as the lady says if I were you."

"I don't take orders from rule-breakers," said the young man, haughtily.

"Well how about _arm_-breakers?" asked Jane, and at his raised eyebrows, added, "Oh believe me, I've seen her do it, and far worse."

Even in the darkness, there was no mistaking the fear in the man's eyes at this comment, and he finally, mercifully, redirected the beam of light away. She sighed in relief.

"I need to ask you to get out of the pool now," he said. "I've been receiving complaints from other guests."

"Liar," said Jane, promptly. "What, were you watching us on a security camera or something? Can't afford to go rent a movie?"

"No!" the young man spluttered, horror-struck at this accusation. "I mean, yes. I mean, no! I mean…yes, I saw something on the camera but I wasn't watching. I was just seeing. There's a difference." He appealed to Lisbon. "Right?"

Part of her felt sorry for this kid. He looked barely out of his teens, and he had the slightly pinched look of someone who had grown up without a lot of food or affection. Had probably come from a broken home similar to hers and had finally moved away from home to try and start a new life, instead finding himself working reception at a dingy roadside motel. That was Saint Teresa speaking.

Human Teresa on the other hand, was actually rather irritated by the kid's impertinence. He had no idea what she was going through right now, and if she wanted to make out like a teenager with her insanely gorgeous consultant in a swimming pool, then damn it, that was what she was going to do, without being made to feel like a criminal.

"I'm going to have make a note of this incident," said the young man. "A breach of house rules attracts an extra fee, to be charged to both the perpetrators."

"You know," she said, looking around. "There's no sign around here saying that CCTV cameras are in operation." She narrowed her eyes. "How many other people have you filmed without their knowledge?"

She felt Jane's chest quiver with suppressed chuckles as he realized what she was trying to do.

"It's on the waiver!" the kid shrieked, panic-stricken. "Every guest signs it when they check in. You signed it! It's totally legal."

"Oh, I'm sure it's there," said Jane, picking up the thread. "Squashed into the fine print at the bottom with all the other the stuff you hope people will miss. It'd be a shame if everybody found out. In fact, they might be a little upset with you."

"Is this a threat?" he asked.

"Of course not," he said. "I'd never do such a thing, and right in front of a police officer no less," he said, gesturing to Lisbon.

It was her turn to snort with laughter.

"I'll tell you what," said Jane. "How about you waive those fees, and we won't mention the fine print to any of the other guests. Deal?"

The young man screwed up his face, battling with himself for a moment before finally sighing and muttering: "Deal."

"Excellent," said Jane. "Goodnight, then. And be proud of yourself, son," he said. "Of all the receptionists in all the cheap motels in all of California, you are the best." He beamed at him, as he turned and skulked away.

The moment the flashlight had bobbed out of sight, Lisbon felt a little guilty about what they'd just done. It also occurred to her that she'd remained wrapped around Jane for that entire conversation and she was glad for the darkness so he wouldn't see her embarrassment.

"That was cruel of us, and dishonest."

"Oh, it's no worse than anything we'd do to solve a case," he said, reassuringly. "A little blackmail is all in a day's work."

"You're going to hell," she told him, with a little smile.

"Meet you there," he said, with a wink. "Come on, the pool police will probably be back in a minute."

She took a moment to admire his form as he ascended the little flight of stairs out of the pool, water cascading off of him, and reached for a towel. She of course, had no towel, having not expected this little detour to the pool, and she wasn't looking forward to walking back to her room drenched all over, in a see-through top.

"You take this," he told her, holding it out to her. "I'll grab another one in my room."

She exited the pool herself, and accepted the offer gratefully, wrapping it around her shoulders. Gathering up her shoes and her room key, she followed him out of the gate, which clicked shut behind them.

The air was still as stifling as ever, already she was starting to feel warm again and was surprised not to see the water from the pool evaporating off her in little spirals of steam. Jane's hair was already starting to dry, little tendrils forming at the tips. She smiled; she'd kind of missed the curls. She'd always wanted to know what it would feel like to run her hands through them.

Once upon a time, she would have considered such thoughts as wildly inappropriate, but now, compared to what she'd spent the last half-hour doing, it seemed rather tame. She'd certainly touched a hell of a lot more of him than just his hair, and kissed a hell of a lot more of him than his cheek.

Their hands brushed together accidentally as they walked, seeming to unconsciously decide to head for his room first. They reached it within moments and she waited as he unlocked the door and stepped over the threshold.

"Well," he said, turning back to her once more. "That was refreshing."

"Yeah," she agreed. "That swim was just what I needed, in this heat."

His fingertips lightly grazed her cheek.

"I don't know about you, but I don't think I'll ever be able to look at a pool in the same way again," he said in a low voice.

"Me neither."

Clutching a wet, half-naked Patrick Jane to her under the moonlight certainly wasn't an experience she expected to forget anytime soon. Feeling his touch, his kiss, knowing that he'd wanted it just as much as she did, that he'd wanted her so badly; she'd never dared to imagine a night like this could happen.

"You don't want to come in for a while, do you?" he asked her, keeping his eyes locked on hers. "We could have some tea, or watch a movie."

She ignored his feeble excuses. He knew as well as she did what would happen if she went into that room. More kissing. More touching. Sex.

She couldn't pretend she didn't want to. She'd wanted this for years. And after their little romp in the pool, she'd never desired him more.

Naturally, he knew her answer before she could verbalize it, giving her a soft smile.

"I understand," he said, but his eyes betrayed his disappointment.

If she loved him less, she would have done it. If they could have sex and have it be only sex, she may even have done it before now. But she loved him too much, and she was too invested in their strange little relationship to be OK with losing him over something like this. She needed to be sure they were on the same page before they took things any further.

Hearing him telling Lorelei when he thought she couldn't hear him was not good enough. He needed to say it to her. Out loud. Face to face. Only then would she be convinced.

"You want to ride to the prison together tomorrow?" he asked. "Save on gas?"

She smiled. "Sure. I'll meet you at the front desk at seven. I'll drive."

"Of course."

A few stray water droplets still glistened on his chest and arms, each one a tiny little reminder to her of how they had got there. If she'd said yes to his offer, she might be kissing them all off him by now, or maybe they'd just be replaced by beads of sweat instead as things started to heat up. Those arms would be holding her close, touching her where they never had before. But that was neither here nor there. She'd made her decision and she was going to stand by it.

She stood on tiptoe again, and softly brought her lips to his in a goodnight kiss, feeling the urge to deepen it, but forcing herself to stop before she did.

She felt him watching as she walked away to her own room.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jane didn't know what he'd expected to see when he went to meet her at the front desk in the morning. Some kind of evidence of their liaison, perhaps (he'd found a couple of nail marks on his chest this morning) or maybe just a new feeling in the air between them, some kind of atmospheric shift.

She was waiting for him when he arrived, and she smiled at him in greeting, the same as she always did. Her hair was flowing loose around her shoulders; she was wearing a new blouse (blue today) and pair of slacks, her crucifix in its usual place. She looked like she did every day, fresh and professional and eager to dive in to her work.

"Hey," she said. "Ready to hit the road?"

"Absolutely," he said. "Just give me one minute."

The young concierge from last night was manning the desk, accompanied by an older man who had to be his supervisor.

"How many times have I told you not to leave your post at night?" the older man was blustering angrily. "I checked the lobby footage and you were away from the desk for nearly twenty minutes last night!"

"But sir-"

"If I remember correctly, that's your third strike," said the older man. "And you know what that means."

"No! Sir, please. I need this job! I've got rent due this week and I'm already behind-"

"We'll talk about this later," his superior snapped, and then turned away from him. "Can I help you, sir?" he said, pasting on a wide smile that didn't reach his eyes as Jane approached the desk. Jane recognised the symptoms of a man disillusioned with his lot in life, resenting his job and everyone around him, but recognising he was now too old to do anything about it.

"Yes, actually. I just wanted to find out if your colleague here had any luck apprehending those people who were making such a racket in the pool after hours last night?"

"What?" said the supervisor as the young concierge's face turned white. "Kyle what is he talking about?"

"Nothing sir," said Kyle hastily. "Just a couple of people who misunderstood the opening hours on the pool. Could happen to anyone."

"Luckily, Kyle here had an eagle eye on the situation," said Jane. "You're lucky to have him, sir."

The supervisor narrowed his eyes suspiciously, and then turned them on Kyle, who shrank back in terror.

"This is why you left your post?" he asked.

Kyle nodded vigorously.

"I'm sure ensuring the comfort of your guests takes highest priority over anything," said Jane mildly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lisbon's mouth curve up into a gentle smile as she realized what he was doing, and felt a little glow of pleasure at the sight.

"Of course, sir," said the supervisor. "All right Kyle," he said grudgingly. "I guess you're off the hook. This time."

The young man's shoulders sagged in relief, and he shot Jane a look of deep gratitude as his boss left the desk, muttering something about contractors.

"That was nice of you," Lisbon said as they walked to the car.

Jane shrugged. "Seemed like the right thing to do. That boss of his is an asshole, and it was my fault the kid was outside last night. I owed it to him."

"Hey, I was there too," she gently reminded him.

"Yes," he said, with a little smile. "But you were coerced."

"A 'double dog dare' hardly counts as coercion," said Lisbon.

"It was my fault," Jane repeated, firmly.

She frowned as Jane again displayed his penchant for blaming himself for anything and everything. He seemed to think that any unpleasantness that happened around him was a direct result of something he'd said, or should have said. He carried too much responsibility on his shoulders.

"Most people wouldn't have done what you just did back there."

"Meh," he said.

She wished he would stop doing this; dismissing the good things that he did as if they were nothing, refusing any evidence that he could be more than just the man that hunted Red John. He was determined to think of himself as a bad person, determined to punish himself for the rest of his life. Yes he did crazy things, and yes, he made some stupid decisions, but she knew he was a good man, and he didn't deserve to make himself suffer the way he did.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They met Agent Darcy just inside the prison grounds, after being subjected to the same extensive security checks as yesterday. Jane found that today's process took even longer than the first time; perhaps the guards were under the impression that being here two days in a row was an indication he was trying to stake out the place and orchestrate some means of escape for Lorelei. Lisbon had slightly less trouble getting in. It seemed her shiny badge was a lot more effective than a CBI identification card.

Darcy greeted them with a brisk handshake each, and once again began to lead them towards the interrogation room.

"Any new developments?" asked Jane, as they walked.

Darcy shook her head. "Same as ever. She ate, she slept, and she lay around and stared at the walls for a while."

"Did she seem any different after I'd spoken to her?"

Darcy considered this for a moment.

"The guards who took her back to her cell mentioned she seemed a little irritated, but that was all. Sort of understandable though," she remarked. "I'm sure the prospect of being locked in a room with you for two weeks would make anyone a little apprehensive."

He smiled indulgently at this, as beside him, Lisbon bit her lip.

Nothing more was said, until they reached the interrogation room. Again, he could see Lorelei already there waiting for him.

"OK Jane," said Darcy. "Do your thing."

"Good luck, Jane," said Lisbon, softly. "Don't let her screw with your head."

He wanted to tell her again that she should stop worrying, or squeeze her hand reassuringly. But of course, he couldn't do either of those things in front of Agent Darcy, so he merely shot her a little smile and signalled a guard to let him in.

Lisbon and Darcy adjourned to the viewing room, switching on the audio just in time to hear Jane greet Lorelei like an old friend. Red John's disciple also gave off every arrear of pleasure at the sight of her visitor. It kind of creeped Lisbon out to watch them interact so pleasantly, while knowing there was only one person on this earth that Jane despised more. He was so good at putting on a mask, and hiding his true self.

"Still here, I see," Jane said, taking his seat. "So far your white knight has failed to rescue his fair maiden. How disappointing for you."

Lorelei smiled serenely back at him. "He'll come for me," she said. "He's just waiting for the right moment."

"Naturally," said Jane. "He'll want to plan your death to his maximum advantage. Timing is everything, even in the world of serial killing."

To Lisbon, it seemed that Lorelei had been totally unaffected by his words. But as she saw a satisfied smirk creep slowly onto Jane's face, she knew that once again, he'd seen something she hadn't.

"If I were you," Jane went on. "I'd be thinking about getting my affairs in order."

He spoke in a tone that was light and pleasant, but even through a pane of glass and a distance of several feet, Lisbon could detect the glint of malice in his eyes that always appeared when he was closing in on someone. She hated it when he got that look in his eyes.

"Do you think he can make her talk?" asked Agent Darcy abruptly, drowning out Lorelei's response.

"I know he thinks he can do it," she replied, after a beat or two. "And it's not often that he doesn't achieve something he sets his mind to."

"I want to know what you think," Darcy pressed.

Lisbon felt her mouth twitch with suppressed annoyance. Part of her still wasn't entirely comfortable with Agent Darcy being so involved in their investigation. She accepted that the FBI would be all over this case now, but she hadn't forgotten how quick Agent Darcy had been to point the finger of blame at Jane during her investigation into the Panzer murder last year.

Admittedly, Jane had not acted like an innocent man. He may not have been the one that took the knife to Panzer, but he'd certainly laid the groundwork, not to mention tampering with evidence, proportioning blame on a dead man and telling lie after lie after lie to cover it up. Had she been in Darcy's position, she would have acted in the exact same way, but after all that time of trying to shield him from Darcy's clutches, it just felt a little awkward that they were suddenly on the same side.

Calling her to find out the details of where Lorelei was being kept had required her to swallow a lot of pride. She'd only done so after exhausting every other possible avenue of finding out herself, which had included calling in a number of favours, and extensive digging by Van Pelt. In the end, the only way she'd been able to face it was by reminding herself that Jane's wellbeing was so much more important than her feelings about Agent Darcy.

It seemed like she was always putting him first.

She watched him as he laughed scornfully at something Lorelei had said, his eyes fixed on her like a hawk after his prey. The expression was familiar, not just from previous interrogations, but there had been something reminiscent of it in his eyes last night as he seized her in the swimming pool for their second round of kissing.

"I don't think there's anything he can't do," she said, softly.

Jane continued to verbally jab at Lorelei for several more minutes; delighting in every little sign that showed him he was getting to her. Little by little, he was beginning to make her doubt Red John. With each day, he chipped away at the pedestal Lorelei had him on, and sooner or later it would come toppling to the ground.

But it seemed Lorelei was not to be beaten yet, for she pulled herself together and smiled at him again.

"It seems that whenever you come to visit me, Patrick, all we discuss is Red John," she said. "How about we talk about something you like for a change?"

He kept his face impassive, but his heart sank at these words. He had a feeling he knew where this was going.

"How is your Teresa getting on without you?" she said, viciously, and proving him right. "I assume you left her back in Sacramento. That's a little mean, Patrick. You already deprived her of your company for so long, was it really fair to take off again so soon?"

Resisting the temptation with difficulty to glance at the glass where he knew she must have been standing, Jane forced himself to keep his cool.

"Actually, she was thrilled to see the back of me," he said. "I think in light of my absence, she forgot how much she hates me being in the office."

"That's odd," said Lorelei. "Red John said she took it very hard when you ran off. One of our sources told us she was practically inconsolable for several days. Call me crazy-"

"You are crazy," he interjected.

"-But I'm not sure that's the way you treat somebody you claim to love, like you did last time. She must love _you_ very much indeed, to be willing to put up with that sort of behaviour."

"Agent Lisbon is none of your concern," he said, calmly, but feeling his hackles rising with every word she spoke.

"Oh, but we-that is, Red John and I- have been very interested in her for quite some time. There was a reason he picked her to be your goodwill gift, you know. She takes your focus away Patrick; she gets your eye off the ball. And we can't have that. Since you've made it clear that you're unwilling to let her be a casualty for your cause, I think Red John might be thinking about taking care of that part for you. It's the kind of merciful thing he does…for _friends."_ She emphasized the last word, with a delicate stress that made Jane's skin crawl once again with revulsion at this woman.

He signalled towards the camera on the wall. "We're done here," he said. "I'll be seeing you tomorrow."

"Looking forward to it already," she said. "And send dear Teresa my regards, won't you?"

Exiting the interrogation room, Lorelei's last words ringing in his ears, Jane wanted to punch something; not necessarily a person, a wall would do. Every time he thought he was getting somewhere with Lorelei, she opened up a new can of crazy that he had to try to negotiate. No doubt, she had been Red John's star pupil.

The door to the viewing room opened and Lisbon and Darcy stepped out of it, Darcy with a frown on her face, but he couldn't bring himself to look Lisbon in the eye.

"Interesting strategy, Jane," Darcy remarked. "You seemed to let her get the upper hand a bit in there; I gather it's all part of the grand plan?"

"Absolutely," he said, with a forced smile. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Where else would I be?" said Darcy, reaching for a pager clipped to her belt that was beeping madly. "Damn AG," she muttered to herself, reaching for it. "Come on, I'll walk you out."

Jane was grateful for her continued presence, as it postponed the moment when he'd have to talk to Lisbon. But all too soon, they were through the gates and back outside, where Darcy bade them goodbye and took her leave.

He could feel Lisbon's searching gaze on him all the way out of the prison. What must she think of him now? Was she now regretting what they'd done last night?

She unlocked the SUV, and slid into the driver's seat again. The moment he closed the door behind him, she turned the key in the ignition and drove off, soon leaving the supermax prison in their dust.

They didn't speak to each other again for the entire ride back to the motel. When she'd pulled back into her spot in the parking lot, she turned off the engine, but didn't get out.

"Jane," she said. "We need to talk. _Really_ talk."

He sighed. "I know."

"Not now," she said, after a minute. "Come by my room tonight at six. We need to sort some things out."

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Happy Indepence Day to my American readers, and to you Brits—no hard feelings? LOL. Here is a holiday treat for you (she said, hopefully). Waterbaby's excellent chapter inspired me to add to it right away, so this chapter comes to you much sooner than I had expected it to. It is longer, it is hotter (beware of the M-rated stuff at the end), and hopefully moves along the plot a bit more so you can see Jane's next step in breaking Lorelei.

Hope you enjoy _all _the fireworks today!

**Chapter 6**

It was a long time until six. Jane had paced in his motel room for a good hour, rehashing and reliving every moment of the day's interview with Lorelei. It wasn't as if he hadn't thought about Red John threatening Lisbon before—actually, that had been the reason in the past that he had pulled away from her, to protect her. No, what frightened the hell out of him was that Lorelei was an ambassador of sorts for Red John, and if she was saying it, then obviously Red John had spoken of it. Lorelei was so controlled by her desire to please her master that Jane doubted she would dare make up such a thing on the fly just to mess with him.

It also occurred to him that her saying it now could be some sort of a signal, that if Red John had someone on the inside of the prison, that person could be waiting to report the message back to the killer. He made a mental note to ask Darcy for the personnel records of all the guards at the prison. He couldn't believe he had been so trusting that he hadn't made the request first thing.

His fears for Lisbon's safety clashed with his thoughts about their sensual encounter the night before. It had been so surreal, holding her in his arms, feeling her mouth beneath his, so yielding, so passionate, so tempting—so everything he hadn't felt with Lorelei. It made him hot just thinking about it, and he shivered as if he had a fever.

He glanced at the clock radio by his bed and sighed impatiently. Two o'clock. His stomach growled and he decided he could kill some time by getting a late lunch. He thought of calling Lisbon to join him in the motel restaurant, but he figured she'd requested the later meeting time so she could catch up on some much-needed sleep. It had been a long night, and he doubted she had slept any better than he had after their tryst in the pool. So he sat alone and ordered a club sandwich and iced tea (it was too sweltering outside even for him to drink it hot). That had wasted a good forty-five minutes.

As he walked reluctantly out into the heat again, he happened to glance at the parking lot beyond the scene of the night's crime (the swimming pool), and looked at his poor Citroen, baking away in the afternoon sun. It was then that he noticed something was missing: Lisbon's car. He bolted toward the lot, trotting completely around the motel in search of the small, dark SUV. It was gone for sure.

_Dammit, Lisbon._

He wiped his perspiring brow and pulled out his phone almost violently, hitting the number one button on his speed dial list. He let it ring until it switched over to voicemail, and he could hardly wait for the tone to leave his threatening message.

"Where the hell _are_ you, Lisbon? You better not have gone where I think you've gone, or...or, so help me, I'll do something—I don't know what, but it'll be really, really bad."

He disconnected, then sent her a similar text. He didn't bother to wait for the reply that likely wouldn't be coming anytime soon, so he went to his car and roared out of the parking lot toward the prison. He couldn't believe she'd pulled another one over on him. That was twice in as many days. Lorelei was right; Lisbon _did_ take him off his game, made him forget to question everything like he always had in the past. It would be to both their detriments if he didn't pull himself together but fast.

He couldn't remember being this furious in a long time. It wasn't as if he thought Lisbon would undo his work with Lorelei—she could handle an interrogation on her own just fine. It was the idea that she was there alone, having to listen to Lorelei's vitriol without him as a buffer, and that perhaps she'd put herself in harm's way, especially in light of his theory that Lorelei might have sent some kind of signal to Red John.

"Dammit, Lisbon," he said, this time to his steering wheel. He seriously considered turning her over his knee the moment he saw her, and not in a sexy way. Well, maybe that would come later—he shook his head violently as the sensual image came unbidden to his mind.

"Focus, Jane," he told himself angrily.

He made the half-hour trip in twenty minutes.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Agent Darcy had gone back to her motel room for the day when Lisbon returned to the prison. She requested Lorelei be brought back to the interrogation room, and the guards, after a quick call to confirm with Darcy, complied. Darcy was kind enough to unilaterally grant Lisbon and Jane complete access to the prisoner for the next two weeks, whether the federal agent was present or not. Lisbon was beginning to like the agent in spite of herself. It probably had something to do with the fact that they were finally all on the same side, for once.

Lisbon sat in the small room, keeping her seat at the table as Lorelei was brought in for the second time that day. The woman's smile seemed genuine as she looked upon the CBI agent with surprise, then with what appeared to be satisfaction. The guard pushed her gently into the chair with a rattle of chains, and left at Lisbon's grateful nod.

"Agent Lisbon," said Lorelei brightly. "I should have known you'd be holding Patrick's leash."

Lisbon had to smirk at that. "_No one_ holds Jane's leash," she said. "If you truly knew him, that one would be pretty self-evident."

Lorelei shrugged. "I've found that everyone has a master, whether its a boss, or a lover, or...an addiction. You are...Jane's addiction. You hold his very heart, it seems, if his earlier declaration of undying love is any indication." That last part sounded a mite sarcastic.

"Jane's addiction...isn't that a band?" Before Lorelei could respond to her quip, Lisbon leaned forward intently. "I've come to take you up on your previous offer. You know, of talking woman to woman?"

"Oh, really? This should be interesting." She sat back in her chair, and no doubt would have crossed her arms in front of her had her hands not been cuffed.

"Before we begin," Lisbon continued, "I want you to know that there is no one behind the glass watching us. And look—I'm not recording this interview, so it will truly be just between us." She inclined her head toward the door. "Our only witnesses are the guards outside this room, and they can't hear anything through the soundproofing, so we can talk with complete honesty."

Lorelei raised a finely shaped brow. "You gonna rough me up now, copper?" she asked, amused.

"We both know that wouldn't do any good, or, believe me, I would." The gleam in Lisbon's eye bespoke an unsettling longing, and Lorelei visibly cringed.

"Well, that's honesty for you. So, woman to woman, what would you like to talk to me about?"

"Why, men, of course. That's what women do, right? You share a bit about your boyfriend; I share something of mine..."

"That's a little awkward in our case, isn't it?" said a bemused Lorelei. "Since we share the same boyfriend, I mean."

"Red John is not my boyfriend."

"You're funny, Teresa. I never knew you had such a great sense of humor. I can totally see why Patrick is so in to you."

"I'll start, then," Lisbon said, ignoring her sarcasm. "You're right about Jane having an addiction, but it's not really me. He's addicted to finding Red John. Considering what he did to Jane's family, you can't really blame him. But you scored a pretty good hit earlier, threatening yet another woman in his life. You got to him, obviously. But let me tell you something, Miss Martins, something that Jane forgets on occasion. I'm a cop; I'm not afraid of the likes of Red John, so those threats don't work on me."

"He's killed cops before."

"Cops that hadn't studied your boyfriend as intently as I have. You know, I'd love for him to come for me, to reveal himself so I can take him out, put him down like the rabid dog he is. But we both know something else at the moment; you're just talking out of your ass in here, desperate to say anything to get to Jane, to mess with him like he's clearly messing with you. Red John's not coming, and that's your greatest fear, isn't it? He doesn't love you enough to save you. You've wasted years of your life in devotion to him and he's thrown you to the wolves without a second thought."

"You're dangerously overconfident, Agent Lisbon. But then, you know something about wasting your life on a man, don't you? I'll give you that Patrick's true obsession is Red John, but you've had to play second fiddle to a pipe dream. He'll never kill Red John. On the contrary, he's well on his way to seeing the light and joining him. That's _your_ greatest fear, isn't it?"

It was, but Lisbon wasn't about to admit that to her. Instead, she chuckled.

"That's absurd. I tell you what I fear. I fear for Red John should Jane get hold of him before I do. But we're getting off track here. I really just wanted to give you a little _womanly_ advice. First, stop trying to get to Jane by threatening me. You might unsettle him a bit, but I'm more than willing to step in and take over the reins as I'm doing right now. And secondly, I think it would be in your own best interest to open up about Red John. We'd protect you, maybe even get you a deal. There's no proof that you were the one who actually kidnapped Wainwright. That might have been all Red John's doing. You could get out of any charges altogether if you tell how he threatened you, didn't give you any

choice—"

"Oh, I had a choice. I'd do anything for Red John. I love him, and would never sell him out," she replied dismissively. "So, is there a third bit of advice? I really would like to have my dinner now. The guards told me it's pot roast tonight, my favorite..."

Lisbon had the frustrating feeling that she was just banging her head against a sociopathic brick wall.

"Yeah, there's one more thing, and I think you can completely relate. I'm in love with Jane, and I'm just as loyal to him as you are to Red John. So I'll do anything to protect him, including risk my career to nail your ass to the wall if you hurt him. Are we clear on that point?"

"Are you threatening me, Teresa? That would be a stupid move on your part."

"Yes, I believe I am. Try me on this one; I dare you." She grinned inside, but kept her face neutral. "I _double dog_ dare you."

Just then, the door to the interrogation room opened and in stepped a very determined looking Jane. He ignored Lorelei and walked straight over to Lisbon, pulled her up by the hands, and kissed her surprised mouth ardently, his hands on either of her smooth cheeks.

He'd been watching from the other side of the window, experiencing a wide range of emotions as he'd listened to the two women speak.

He'd been furious when he'd first arrived, but he wasn't about to rush in and verbally attack Lisbon while she was interrogating Red John's disciple—no sense Lorelei seeing any rifts between them. Then he'd become caught up in their discussion, in how masterfully Lisbon was handling her. The woman-to-woman line was inspired, and he could already see how much Lisbon was getting to her, chipping further away at Lorelei's confidence; he could tell how defensive Red John's girl was becoming by the tightness of her facial features, in the way she clenched her hands together into small fists. And then Lisbon had given her third recommendation, and Jane had frozen in surprise, before his heart started pounding hard against his chest.

_I'm in love with Jane..._

Not the ambiguous, "I love Jane," or the wimpy "Love him," but "I'm _in love_ with Jane." It was undeniable the meaning of that statement. He'd known it, of course, but to hear her say it, so matter-of-factly, freed the angry knot in his chest and made him feel happier than he'd been in nine years. Without giving it much thought (for once) he'd left the observation room to claim the woman he loved.

The seconds ticked by as the pair forgot where they were, unconsciously drawing the grinning attention of the guards at the glass door, along with the rather disgusted witness sitting in the room with them, literally a captive audience. When their breathing became audible, Lorelei cleared her throat.

"Seriously? I thought detainees weren't supposed to be subjected to torture. Isn't it against the Geneva Conventions or the Fifth Amendment or something?"

Jane pulled back from Lisbon reluctantly, smoothing a lock of hair behind her ear and replying to Lorelei while his eyes still held Lisbon's dazed gaze.

"That's the _Eighth _Amendment. And we're not at war, exactly, so the Geneva Conventions don't apply."

"Still, I'm feeling a little tortured right now, so if you wouldn't mind..."

Jane turned to nod at the gawking guard, who opened the door again with a knowing grin. "You can take her back now," Jane said.

"Sure thing, Mr. Jane."

As Lorelei was escorted out, the enamoured pair didn't even seem to notice. When they were finally alone, Lisbon gently extricated herself from his hold and turned away, pulse racing with a keen mixture of desire and embarrassment.

"Well, that was totally unprofessional," she said, but she didn't sound upset, exactly.

"You're lucky I just kissed you. You would have hated my first inclination. Why didn't you tell me you were coming back here? If you're trying to make a point that you can trick and undermine me just as easily as I can you—"

"No," she replied, turning back to him. "This was an impulsive decision. After I dropped you off earlier, I tried to get some sleep, but all I could think of was how upset you were by Lorelei's threats, how maybe I'd messed things up with my surprise appearance. I had to do something about it."

"Aw, Saint Teresa, you shouldn't have. Seriously, don't do this kind of thing anymore, not when it comes to Red John. He asked for your goddamn head recently, remember? Last year he allowed you to be rigged with explosives. You're no longer flying under his radar, don't you see that? He's found my Achilles heel, and he won't hesitate now to use you to get to me."

"I'm not—"

"Afraid. Yeah, I know. Lorelei was right about one thing; inciting Red John is a very stupid move, trust me on this."

"Look around you, Jane. She's in a _supermax _prison. If Red John had wanted to get to her, he would have had plenty of opportunities when they transferred her from Sacramento. No, he's washed his hands of her because he knows she's not telling us anything—she'll _never _tell us. He's brainwashed her too deeply, and she's happy to rot in jail for him."

He reached out now, resting his hands on her small yet capable shoulders. "I know it seems hopeless right now, but believe me, we're getting to her. It's only a matter of time now. Don't give up."

"So that's what was behind that dramatic display a few minutes ago. All part of your plan to get to her?"

"No," he said softly, his eyes growing warm. "I can be impulsive too, sometimes. What you said to her about me, I know you meant it."

"What did I say again? I was kinda hyped up..."

He grinned. Nothing like having your own words thrown back at you.

"I think we should both stop evading the truth now. About us. About our true feelings." He took a deep breath, his hands moving from her shoulders to her hair. "I love you, Teresa. After all we've been through together, after all you've done for me, how could I not?"

She blinked away sudden tears, shaking her head slowly. "You've said this before, _denied_ this before—"

"Well, I'm not denying it now." He leaned down and gently touched her lips with his. "I can understand how you might doubt me. But I swear, Teresa, this is no long con here. I love you. I'm _in love_ with you. I'm infatuated, enamoured, obsessed, head-over-heels, crazy in—"

She silenced his litany with a kiss of her own, allowing all her own true feelings to be laid bare to him. She wanted there to be no mistake what he meant to her, that she wanted him, loved him, with everything that she was.

He broke the kiss and pulled her into his arms, where she rested her head on his chest. He counted his heartbeats in an effort to slow them down. As much as he'd love to take her on the interrogation table, he wanted his first time with her to be much more romantic, and much more comfortable. He wasn't twenty-five anymore, he thought with a smile.

"Just so we're clear," she said a bit breathlessly, her voice muffled against his suit coat. One of his hands began stroking her hair soothingly. "I love you too."

"I never doubted it for a minute," he said, kissing the top of her head and inhaling deeply of her fragrance. Today she smelled of oranges. He endured a warning slap on his arm for his tremendous ego, but she allowed him to continue to hold her.

"Does this meeting negate the afore-planned meeting scheduled for six o'clock?" he asked, a smile in his tone.

Lisbon's heart, having calmed considerably under his gentle hands, skipped a beat and began racing again. "It doesn't have to," she said invitingly, and pulled back enough so he could see the promise in her eyes.

"Well, okay then," he said, and he took her lips in a brief, though toe-curling kiss, his tongue tangling sensually with hers. When he released her, they were both panting again, but happiness radiated from their faces with a warm glow. "May I walk you out, Agent Lisbon?"

"Please," she replied formally, but in a further breach of professional protocol, she let him hold her hand all the way to the parking lot.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Six o'clock seemed an even longer time away, even though this time it was only thirty minutes that he had to spend in his own room waiting. He realized he shouldn't show up at her door empty handed, so he'd driven to a convenience store and purchased the only fresh flowers available in the little oasis—two rather forlorn roses in a water filled bucket on the check-out counter. At least they were red, which symbolized true love and passion. That pretty well summed up what he was feeling for her these days. He only wished he had a couple dozen of them.

He'd found the Get-Quik's best dusty bottle of ten dollar, screw-top zinfandel on a back shelf, which was currently chilling in one of the motel's best plastic ice buckets. He smiled to himself as he remembered the young store clerk's amused expression after he'd asked for a box of Trojan's finest.

"Hot date?" he'd inquired with a laugh, examining Jane's purchases and no doubt noting his age.

"That's what I'm hoping," Jane had replied good-naturedly.

"Dude, what are you, the forty-year-old virgin or something?"

"Something like that," Jane had told him, proudly accepting his brown paper bag. "Actually, I'm forty-three."

He'd charmed the female manager of the motel restaurant and tipped her fifty bucks (the motel had no room service) for them to deliver two steak dinners and their biggest slice of chocolate cake at precisely 6:05 to Lisbon's room.

It wasn't exactly the romantic seduction he might have hoped for, but he was incredibly limited by their location. Besides, none of that stuff really mattered at the moment. Before this day was over, Lisbon would be naked in his arms, and he could finally be free to pour his heart and his body into hers, effectively blotting out his tawdry night with Lorelei. It was time to move on from all of that now, and his months away from Lisbon made him realize he didn't want to move on without her.

He showered and meticulously shaved, lightly splashing on his rarely-used sandalwood cologne. He dressed in a blue cotton shirt, sans coat and vest, the sleeves rolled up to his tanned forearms, and a pair of his gray slacks, managing to look cool and casual despite the oppressive heat. His hair was still damp and curling away from his face when he knocked at six o'clock sharp, wine bucket and roses in hand. He was as nervous as a teenager picking up his girl for the prom (at least what he imagined that might have felt like), and when she opened the door in her black yoga pants and v-necked brown t-shirt, it hit him like a punch in the gut that he was really about to do this. With Lisbon. _Wow_.

"Wow," he found himself saying aloud, his eyes sliding over her, rising from her bare, red-tipped toes to her naturally waving hair. The scent of citrus inundated him again, and he relaxed and smiled. She flushed under his admiring gaze, and he presented her with the roses.

"Thank you," she said, inhaling them. She wondered why they smelled of disinfectant and tobacco, but she didn't question his thoughtful gesture.

"Please, come in. You're lucky we have air conditioning. Good old Kyle saw to it, I'm sure." She noticed his other gift, and arched an eyebrow. "Wine too, eh? Expecting to get me drunk and have your way with me?"

"No," he said, straight-faced, his eyes sparkling. He placed the bucket on the small table for two. "I want you fully aware when I have my way with you. The cheap wine is just an added bonus." He reached for her hands, felt her pulse skipping beneath his fingers.

There would be no sly attempts to make this meeting seem like it was anything other than it truly was: a chance to take their relationship to a deeper, more physical level. They were both on the same wavelength here, both had confessed their love, each of them passionately curious to see if they would work together in the bedroom as fluidly as they did at the CBI.

He'd just bent to kiss her when a knock came on the door.

"Room service."

"That will be our dinner," said Jane at her surprised reaction.

"Seriously? You're really building this thing up, aren't you? I'm starting to have very high expectations..."

He smirked at her teasing. He might be a bit out of practice, but he had big plans for her this night, plans involving seeing how many times he could make her call his name. His _first_ name. He hastily brought her hands to his lips before dropping them and going to open the door to their visitors. Two familiar waiters from the restaurant came in, each bearing two covered plates, linen napkins and a small tablecloth draped over one man's arm. Candles emerged from the other's pockets, and the table was set in no time, the plates uncovered with a flourish. Jane reached into his pocket for the tip, but they declined, wishing them a pleasant dinner and leaving as unobtrusively as they'd come.

Jane pulled out a chair for his date before turning off the other lights in the room, leaving her sitting in the golden glow of the candlelight. He retrieved the two standard issue water glasses from the bathroom, unscrewed the cap to their wine, (much to Lisbon's amusement) and poured each of them three fingers' worth.

"Wow, Jane, you really know how to treat a girl."

"Only the best for you, dear Lisbon," he said, and they both laughed, relieving some of the nervous tension, while ramping up the sexual energy between them tenfold. They dug into their steaks, baked potatoes, and salads with gusto, their conversation going unerringly to work.

"I have a plan for Lorelei," Jane said, taking a sip of wine and cringing at its unrefined sweetness. "But I'm not sure you're gonna like it."

"What else is new?"

He couldn't very well argue that point. "Well, I'm pretty sure it's unethical, immoral, and probably even unconstitutional."

"Well, with that kind of an introduction, how can I refuse? Please, do go on." She took another bite of the surprisingly flavorful steak.

"I've been trying to get her to see that her life is in danger, that Red John doesn't care about her anymore. You've been bolstering that very cleverly too, I might add."

She nodded and saluted him with her glass. He grinned, and continued. "Well, why don't we back up our mind games with something more substantial? Say we stage an attack on her."

She carefully set down her fork. "What?"

"We'll come dramatically to her rescue, of course. Then, seeing we were right about Red John's intentions, she loses faith in him and breaks down, begging us to protect her in exchange for his name and whereabouts, etcetera, etcetera."

She studied him a moment, torn between horror and awe. He continued eating, patiently waiting for her reaction.

"That's actually pretty brilliant," she said finally. "In _theory_. A lot could go wrong. What if the attack isn't believable enough? What if someone gets hurt in the process? What if we go to all the trouble and it yields nothing? What if we both lose our jobs—again?"

"I know the risks," he conceded. "But frankly I'm getting tired of riding this roundabout. I'm usually fairly patient, but I can practically foresee the future now; it's going to take considerably more than two weeks to deprogram her. If the Feds choose to keep her in Death Valley until her trial, when the prison opens for all the new inmates, she's going to be exposed to a greater possibility of being snuffed out by another prisoner or guard, even if she's in solitary confinement. We've both seen how resourceful Red John can be."

"You think he'll have her killed? You said yourself she seems different..."

"I'm not sure," he said honestly. "But my greatest fear is we'll lose her before she talks, and all of this—my six months on the lam, Wainwright's death, what I...what I did with Lorelei—will have been for nothing."

Lisbon reached out her hand to lay it on top of his on the table. "No matter how this turns out, you did what you thought you needed to do. I'm still pissed off you didn't feel you could clue me in on your plan, but I understand why you kept me out of the loop. You wanted to protect me, to protect your sacrifice."

"I'm sorry," he said again.

She waved her other hand dismissively.

"Water under the bridge. Now, pour me some more of this mislabelled cough syrup and let me propose a toast."

He did as she asked and they held up their drinks. "To...scaring the hell out of the bitch. And may she sing like a canary."

Jane laughed. "You're mixing your metaphors again."

"Shut up and drink your port—uh, I mean your zinfandel."

"To scaring the bitch," he echoed, and drank it down. They gasped and made faces at the taste, but it warmed them both inside, and when Jane filled their glasses again, she didn't protest.

After dinner, they sat on the couch as the candles flickered merrily. Jane toed off his shoes and relaxed against the back of the couch.

"When I get you back to civilization," he told her, as they finished off the last of the bottle. "I promise I'll take you out on a real date. French cuisine, the theatre, dancing, wine with a cork—whatever you like."

She snuggled up to his side, leaning her head on his shoulder and drawing her feet up beneath her. The wine, the soft light, and his nearness combined to make her feel a little lightheaded, not to mention slightly on the randy side. One hand began playing with a low button on his shirt, as he idly traced meaningless patterns on her thigh.

"I don't know—it was very sweet what you threw together in less than an hour. I'm actually pretty impressed, given your limited resources out here in the middle of nowhere. But next time you decide to ply me with liquor, please don't pick the cheap stuff. I'm gonna have a hell of a headache in the morning."

He grinned lazily at her, pleased that she was enjoying herself.

"So, there will be a next time?" he asked softly.

"Maybe, if you play your cards right."

"And you know how good I am at cards..."

He felt his stomach quiver as she released the second button from its fastening, her short nails moving softly, teasingly over his newly bared skin.

"And to think," he said conversationally, despite the effect she was having on him, "Cho and Rigsby are probably heading to that Kings game about now, and Van Pelt is going out on her first date since she killed her fiancé, not to mention that it's about thirty degrees cooler there. But you know what—I wouldn't trade their lives right now for all the Earl Grey in England."

She laughed softly as another button slipped through her fingers. She laid her palm flat against his abdomen and looked up into his eyes, hers dreamy and inviting. He leaned down, shifting his position to better reach her wine-sweetened lips. He took his time, learning the shape of her mouth before tracing it's seam with his tongue. She opened with a moan and he unhurriedly began exploring the intoxicating interior, as she languidly dispensed with the rest of his buttons.

His hands found their way beneath her t-shirt, and he realized this had been where they'd left off the night before. This time, he didn't hesitate to cup her breasts, his thumbs massaging their tips through her bra until she was squirming in his arms.

"Bed," he murmured, staying her hands on his bare chest. He picked her up easily and carried her the short distance to the queen-sized mattress, laying her gently on the Southwestern print coverlet, while he divested himself fully of his shirt. He watched with darkening eyes as she sat up and did the same with her tee.

"Allow me," he said, when her hands went shakily to the front closure of her black bra. She lay back down and let him, his fingers deftly parting it to his heated gaze.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, pleased as the flush of her cheeks encompassed her breasts as well.

"So are you," she said, before his head lowered and he took one hard peak into his mouth. "Oh...Patrick..."

_That's one, _he thought almost giddily.

He lingered at her bosom for a few heady moments, before kissing his way down to her stomach, laving her navel as she arched her back and buried her hands into his soft hair. Soon she was completely naked beneath him, but before he could get his fill of simply looking at her, more alluring than he'd even imagined, she was sitting up and focusing on the button of his pants.

He was so hard by this time that it was a lesson in torment as she unzipped his fly and lowered the garment over his hips. When her hand brushed him with only his thin boxer shorts between them, he gasped, and her green eyes flew up to his rather wickedly. His underwear was the next to go, and her hands snaked around to caress his backside as he stood at the foot of the bed, looking down in anticipation when she kneeled on the floor before him.

When her head moved forward and she took him into her mouth, he thought he might collapse with the pure pleasure of it. "Teresa," he breathed. He could only handle a minute of that before he was urging her to stop.

"I really don't want things to end too uh, prematurely," he told her hoarsely. Her soft laugh was unbelievably sexy as she watched in appreciation him bending to find the back pocket of his discarded slacks. His hands were unsteady as he opened the small packet.

"Let me do the honors," she said, holding her hand out. Safe sex had never felt so unsafe before, he thought wildly, groaning anew as her small hands wrapped lovingly around him. Her task complete, she lay on the bed again, reaching for his hands and pulling him down on top of her. They both took a moment to revel in the sensual feel of naked skin on skin. Their eyes met, asking and answering an unspoken question.

_Are you sure about this?_

_Yes._

He kissed her gently, then deeply, his hands reaching to bend her knees up before he entered her in one deep stroke.

"Patrick," she moaned, as he began to move, and he nearly smiled as he added another mental tally mark. She'd probably kill him if she knew what he was thinking. But then he couldn't think at all, and very soon he lost count of her passionate cries completely.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Waterbaby and I are truly overwhelmed by the warm reception this fic is receiving. As for my neglected fic, "Goldilocks," I'm hopeful that I'll have another chapter for it this week. "Scarlet Woman" has caught my muse, so I had to feed it a bit before going back to fairy tale land. In the meantime, we'd be honored if you logged in and left us a review.


	7. Chapter 7

**Once again I apologize for the slow updating by me. Letting the team down as always. I hope this chapter makes up for it at least a little.**

**BTW if you haven't checked out Donna's recently completed fic "Goldilocks and the Red Wizard," I urge you to do so. It's a fantastic read! And I'm not just saying that because she's my writing partner.**

"Remind me why we didn't start doing this years ago," said Lisbon, as they lay together afterwards, gasping for breath and soaked in sweat. She wasn't sure if it was the years of repressed desire that had done it, or the simple fact that she'd never made love to a mentalist before, but sex had never been so satisfying.

One thing was certain, given the choice; she wasn't about to go back to one-night stands now.

"Apparently it's against some rule or other," he whispered back, pushing her damp hair aside and dropping light kisses on her shoulder and her neck, as she sighed contentedly.

"What a stupid rule," she said, lazily, tilting her head aside to grant him optimum access.

He paused in his ministrations, and gasped in mock-horror. "Do mine ears deceive me? Teresa Lisbon, the pinnacle of doing things by the book, actually enjoyed breaking a rule?"

"Oh, shut up, you jerk."

"This is your idea of pillow talk, is it?" he said, resuming the kissing of her neck. "Childish insults?"

"If you're looking for someone who's going to lie here and marvel at your manhood and stroke your ego, there's a whole office full of women at home who'd just love to oblige you. Personally-" she turned and gave him a soft kiss –"I believe in honest criticism. It's the only thing that leads to improvement."

"Improvement?" he repeated, with a raised eyebrow. "So I'm not good enough for you, is that it?"

"I never said that," she said. "Maybe just a little out of practice." She let just the slightest hint of condescension colour her tone, and stifled a giggle at the look of displeasure on his face.

"Well if that's the attitude you're going to take, maybe I will find someone else more deserving of my affection," he said haughtily. "Anyone in the office, you say?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh please. You know full well the stir you created on your first day at the CBI. Not to mention the effect you have on practically every woman that crosses your path."

Every time they walked through the bullpen, she could practically see all the others mentally undressing her consultant. They smiled at him over the tops of files and coffee cups, flirted with him while waiting for the elevator, and 'accidentally' bumped into him in the halls. He was charming and polite to them all, as was his way, but she had been known to shoot the odd death-glare at the ones who were just a little too friendly. Perhaps it was selfish, perhaps a little juvenile, but she was already competing with his dead wife and daughter, and she wasn't about to share him with the rest of the female population as well.

"Including you," he pointed out.

She scoffed. "Hardly. I know things the rest of them don't."

"Oh, yes?"

"Yes." She whispered in his ear. "I know you're an egotistical son of a bitch-"

"Guilty."

"-with a total disregard for rules-"

He smirked. "Guilty. But isn't that a case of the pot and kettle all over again, my dear?"

"And you think you're better than anyone else in the room," she concluded.

He shook his head at this. "That's where you're wrong, Teresa," he said. "I'm smarter then anyone else in the room, not better." He smiled fondly at her and twisted a strand of her hair gently round his finger. "That particular honor is all yours."

"Well," she said slyly. "I can at least think of one thing I'm better at than you." Almost unconsciously, her fingers began to trace shapes on his chest, and her mouth moved to capture his again.

"Such arrogance, Agent Lisbon," he said, once their lips had parted. "Anyone would think you'd been taking tips from me."

She smiled at him. "You've been a bad influence on me right from the beginning," she said. "You made me reckless, and impulsive. I was never that way until you came along."

He shook his head. " We both know that side of you was always there," he said, with a grin. "I just brought it to the surface."

" Maybe," she conceded. "But even on the day we met, I knew you were bad news."

He chuckled. "Yet, you signed on with me anyway."

"You and all the insanity that comes with you."

He kissed her temple, as she settled her head on his chest, thinking about that first day they'd spent together. How painfully aware she'd been of her unwashed hair and the shabby shoes she'd had for years as they'd been introduced. How quickly her insecurities had been forgotten once he'd opened that big mouth of his.

She would never in a million years have imagined they would end up here. After a failed engagement and a couple of relationships going nowhere, she didn't believe she even had the capacity to love somebody so much.

Their fingers laced together, and she felt the cool metal of his wedding ring against her skin. What would Angela Jane say if she knew what her husband was doing right now? Lisbon didn't believe in ghosts, but she did believe in heaven and hell. Was she going to be sentenced to eternal damnation for feeling this way about a man who was, at least in his own mind, still married to someone else?

"You knew before I did, didn't you?" she asked, after a moment. "How I felt about you."

If the rest of the office had noticed, surely he must have done too. Must have seen the way she looked at him sometimes when she thought he wasn't looking, listened in to her impassioned defences of him against Hightower, LaRoche, Bertram, Wainwright, or anyone else who threatened to take his job away. Must have connected the dots and seen the truth before she was even conscious of what she'd been doing. And he'd never said a word.

"Yes."

"You never said anything."

"I wanted to give you a chance to change your mind. Aim higher, if you will."

She moved around so she was looking straight into his eyes. "Is this your way of saying you regret this?"

He gently stroked her cheek. "Don't be silly. You are the best thing that could possibly have happened to me. Don't ever doubt that for a second. I just want you to be sure of what you're getting into."

"Patrick," she said, in sudden annoyance. "I know you better than anyone else on this planet. I know your dirty little secrets. You can't talk me out of loving you; it's too late for that. We are what we are. Accept it."

They didn't speak any more after that. Lisbon wasn't foolish enough to think that she had won this argument. No doubt he had only fallen silent in order to formulate further counterarguments to try out at some later point. But she was determined that this time he was not going to have his way. After all, this wasn't just about him anymore.

Lisbon was the first to awaken the next morning. The rising of the sun had made it uncomfortably hot under the covers, where she'd been lying wrapped in her consultant's arms for what had remained of the night. She also discovered that her prediction had been correct: she did have one hell of a headache this morning. It felt as if someone was beating the inside of her head relentlessly with a sledgehammer. Thud. Thud. Thud. Damn Jane and his cheap-ass wine.

She gently nudged his arm aside and sat up, trying not to disturb him, as she felt her body slowly coming back to full consciousness. The last few times she'd been in a situation like this, she had looked back at her companions and wondered what on earth she'd been thinking.

Today, she glanced back at Jane with an air of quiet triumph. After wanting him for so long, and spending years convincing herself that there was no way in hell he'd ever want her back, she savoured the fact that he was hers, all hers. For the first time in a week she could look at him without picturing that bitch Lorelei all over him, sinking her claws into him with Red John watching over her shoulder.

Jane slept on as she surveyed his face in the soft illumination filtering through the blinds. This was a sight she could easily get used to seeing first thing in the morning, and she'd do all in her power to ensure its continuance. Her heart wrenched with mingled love and fear for him. He was still in danger. She knew Red John wouldn't rest until Jane was either turned or dead, but let the serial killer and his trollop come and do their worst; they'd have to get through her first.

She decided to hold off on waking him for a few minutes more; he needed all the sleep he could get after his six months on the run. She slipped silently out of the bed, suddenly and awkwardly aware of her nakedness, and all but ran to the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

If there was one thing she enjoyed about trips out of town it was the opportunity to take ridiculously long showers completely guilt-free, while someone else picked up the water bill. So she indulged herself in the longest shower she'd had since she was a teenager, not caring that the whole bathroom was soon engulfed by swirling steam, or that the mirror on the medicine cabinet was so fogged up she'd be fortunate to ever see her face in it.

She thought she heard the click of the door again over the pounding of the water, but couldn't be sure until a dark shape resembling Patrick Jane became discernable through the mist.

She let out a little cry of indignation, turned off the water, and grabbed for the towel hanging over the top of the shower frame. After wrapping it securely around herself, she turned a stern expression towards the man watching her, wearing his boxer shorts and grinning from ear to ear.

"Patrick Jane," she said, crossly. "Do you have _any_ comprehension of personal boundaries?"

He winked at her. "I seem to have developed a new partiality for the combination of you and bodies of water. And in lieu of another moonlight swim, this will do nicely."

"You know I don't need my gun to cause you serious pain, right?" she said.

"Yes, yes of course," he said waving a hand dismissively. "I'm sure your aptitude for barehanded combat knows no bounds. But would it help if I mention again how irresistible you look when you're wet?"

She tried her best to keep the anger and outrage on her face, but felt her scowl giving way to a smile, and that irritating blush colouring her face (though if he asked, she'd blame the hot water.)

"You're a shameless man," she said.

He smirked. "Makes you want me, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "We really don't have time for this. We have an appointment with a certain serial killer's girlfriend."

"We can be a little late, it's not like she's going anywhere."

"Patrick, the time we've got to make this happen is limited enough as it is," she pointed out. "Do you really want to cut it down even more?"

She knew she was getting to him, even as he tried not to let her see it. No matter how things had developed between them, the fact remained that they had come to Death Valley with a purpose, and she knew what would happen if they didn't achieve it. Red John was probably even now moving to dispose of Lorelei, and when he did, they'd be back to where they always were, at a dead end and clueless about his next move. She didn't think her consultant could handle that. She certainly wasn't keen on the idea of being put through six months of misery and having nothing to show for it in the end.

The smirk on his lips faded, and he reached out to smooth her wet hair back.

"You're right of course. We have a job to do and we shouldn't forget that."

The words sounded hollow, as though he didn't really believe them at all, but perhaps he was just thinking, or tired. After all, the last few days had been long and exhausting and last night, sleep hadn't exactly been high on the agenda.

"Just focus on her for now," she said. "We've got all the time in the world to sort out us."

The smile returned. "Us?" he said. "We're an 'us' now?"

Her first instinct was to apologize for her presumption, take it back, but as he grinned at her some more she fought down the impulse. Instead, she squared her shoulders and stared him down.

"You said you loved me. I think that's evidence enough. Unless that's what you say to all the girls to get them into bed."

"What can I say, it's the ultimate pick-up line," he quipped, but became serious again when her stony expression didn't change. " Teresa," he said gently. "I don't have a lot of love for anything anymore, but what I do have is all for you. Please believe that."

She saw the truth in his eyes as he said this. She leaned towards him for a tender kiss that was warmly reciprocated, and then the towel was falling away to the floor, his boxer shorts following shortly afterwards, and she felt him shuffling her backwards until they were both in the shower.

"I thought I told you no," she said, with a small laugh as he turned the water back on. With a small growl, he pushed her against the wall, and pinned her there as the hot water streamed down upon both of them.

"You did," he said. "But I never was much good at doing what I'm told."

He moved against her slick form, the water drumming a steady tattoo against the glass of the shower frame. He kissed her with such deep passion, she almost felt her knees buckle and was grateful he was pressed so close to her as to hold her up.

The steam was rising again, like a misty veil, obscuring her vision. She couldn't see him clearly anymore, but she could still feel his hands wandering all over her body and his lips nipping softly at hers, almost mockingly, daring her to resist him.

"Patrick," she moaned. "Stop."

"See, there you go giving me orders again," he said. "You really need to learn your lesson."

She cried out as his fingers traced the curve of her hips, with a feather-light sensation, teasing and tickling until she was begging him to stop, that she couldn't bear it anymore. Her cries were becoming louder, her breathing shallower and she had the odd thought that her pupils must be dilated beyond their limits.

"Tell me you love me," he said. "And all of this stops."

"That's blackmail. I won't do it," she said, as firmly as she could manage while writhing in ecstasy.

"Suit yourself," he hissed into her ear. "I could do this all day."

He kissed her hard and long, her back against the wall and his thigh between her legs. Her arms curled around his neck as he kissed every last vestige of oxygen out of her, leaving her struggling for breath.

Her resolve lasted for a grand total of sixty-five seconds, and then she was screaming it out over the water flow, hating herself for giving in, and hating him for making her. And all of a sudden, he was backing away from her, pushing open the shower door, meaning to exit. She grabbed his arm with such strength it made him wince, and pulled him back towards her.

"Oh, no you don't," she purred. "Didn't anyone ever teach you to finish what you start?"

He made his eyes wide and innocent. "I'm sorry, dear, but you said we were in a hurry."

Her fingers tightened on his arm. She felt out of control, animalistic, and she wasn't about to let him drive her this crazy, but leave her unsatisfied. "Well then lets skip the niceties, and get right to the point."

"Glad to be of service," he said, and then she was pushed back against the wall again.

"Oh…Patrick."

A succession of moans, which gave way to cries, and cries to all out screams echoed around the bathroom as the water continued to thunder around them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Are you feeling all right, Lisbon?" asked Agent Darcy. "You look a little flushed."

They'd finally reached the prison just before ten. It had taken a little longer to get ready this morning as her hair had been frizzed out by the steam in the bathroom, not to mention Jane's frequent reappearances at her side under various pretences had not helped to keep a steady hand while applying her makeup. She'd messed up her mascara three times before losing her patience and ordering him out. However, on the upside, the early morning ravishing had totally negated the need for blusher; she'd been glowing quite enough.

The sun was just beginning to bake the surrounding landscape, and the temperature was creeping up minute by minute as they took shelter in the air-conditioned building.

"Yes," she answered the FBI agent. "I'm fine. It must just be the heat."

Susan nodded her head sympathetically. "Terrible isn't it? I don't think I got a wink of sleep last night."

"Neither did I," put in Jane, with a totally straight face. Lisbon shot him a warning look, and he winked back at her.

"So," said Darcy, briskly. "Shall I have the guards bring the guest of honour to interrogation?"

"Actually, no," said Jane, all seriousness again. "It's actually you I wanted to speak to today. I have an idea."

"And you couldn't just call me up and tell me?" she asked. "You two dragged yourselves all the way out here?"

"It's complicated," Jane hedged. "A bit unethical…possibly a little bit illegal."

"Oh, I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"We thought it would be best if we all discussed it face to face," Lisbon said in a rush. "Just to make sure we're all on the same page. Is there somewhere we can sit down and talk it over?"

Darcy looked suspicious, but gestured to a door at the end of the hall. "The guard's break room is through there," she said. "They're all on duty right now; it'll be empty."

"Perfect," said Jane, with a smile. "Tea would hit the spot."

Sitting around a small round table, Jane described his plan of a staged attack to Agent Darcy. Lisbon watched the other woman's face go from shock, to outrage, to setting her mouth into a thin line, that became thinner still the more he talked.

"I feel like we've been going around in circles these past few days," said Jane. "We need to shake her up a bit, put the fear of God into her, so to speak. No offense," he added to Lisbon, glancing at the crucifix around her neck. She rolled her eyes.

Darcy looked from Jane to Lisbon, and then back again.

"You're mad," she said, with an air of slight wonderment. "I always thought you were a little off center, Patrick, but it's more than that, you're insane. And Agent Lisbon, you're condoning this ludicrous plan?"

Jane opened his mouth to retort, but Lisbon silenced him with a hand on his arm.

"Red John should have acted by now," she said. "With all his other friends and accomplices, we had them in custody less than a day before they were killed. We've had Lorelei for nearly a full week; if he was coming for her, he would've done it already."

"Which means we have plenty of time to get her to talk," said Darcy, clearly not spotting the problem.

"She won't," said Jane. "The only reason Red John would let her still be alive is if he was certain that she wasn't going to cave in. He's got her well trained. She truly loves him, and is truly devoted to him. We can poke and prod at her until the cows come home, but she won't talk."

"And so, obviously, the next step would be physical violence against her," said Darcy, sarcastically. "And who do you propose to be this attacker?"

"Well, that's why we came to you," said Jane. "We were hoping you might be able to help us out with that. Use your contacts at the FBI and find somebody we can trust to bring in on the play. Oh, and incidentally," he added. "I need you to provide me with the personnel records of all the guards employed here."

"Why?"

"Something Lorelei said yesterday during her interview with Lisbon. I need to be sure that they're all on the level, and aren't going to be running to Red John and blabbing about what we're up to."

"None of the people who work here have anything to do with Red John, or any other criminal," said Darcy. "They were all personally vetted by the warden before they were given the job."

"But they haven't been personally vetted by me. I've been studying Red John for a decade, Susan. I know how he operates, how he hunts, and how he kills. Nobody knows him better than I do. And I'll need the warden's file too," he said, as an afterthought.

"Patrick, those files are confidential," she said, tersely. "I can't just go and demand them from somebody without a warrant or probable cause, particularly not on the say-so of somebody who isn't technically even law enforcement, and even if I could, I wouldn't. I know these men. The idea of them being a mole for Red John is ridiculous. I can vouch for each and every one of them."

"An admirable sentiment," said Jane dismissively. "But I'm afraid your good opinion counts for very little when dealing with Red John. His disciples are all highly skilled in deception. Grace Van Pelt was actually engaged to one before we tricked him into showing his true colours. He was an FBI agent too, if you'll remember."

Darcy's nostrils flared with indignation, so Lisbon stepped in.

"We understand that this case is the FBI's now," she said, calmly. "But the fact is, we were dealing with Red John long before the Bureau got involved. With all due respect, you need us on this. Jane is the leading expert on that bastard, and the rest of us aren't that far behind. Use us."

Darcy regarded them both for a moment, considering.

"It so happens that I know a judge around here; an old friend," she said. "I should be able to get a warrant for those files. Let me just make a quick call, and see if he's in."

She slipped out of the room, drawing a cell phone out of her pocket as she did. When she returned a minute later, it was with a grim smile on her face.

"He's faxing through the warrant right now," she said. "But he's only giving you permission to _see_ the files, you can't take them away with you, or make copies or anything like that. They'll have to remain here. But you can use this room for as long as you want."

"That's fine," said Jane. "We've got all day."

After beginning the day on such a high, Lisbon couldn't help feeling it was a bit of an anticlimax to spend the greater part of it buried in paperwork, almost if they were home and working on another case.

The warden had brought in a large cardboard box containing thirty manila folders, all the while complaining about the insult of he and his men being treated as suspects for simply trying to do their jobs.

"You cops might be the ones who catch the scum of the earth," he said, setting it down with a thud. "But we're the ones who have to see their filthy faces every day and listen to their whining and complaining, for no credit and next to no pay."

Naturally, Jane had taken it upon himself to make the situation worse by asking the warden how long it had been since he'd flunked out of the police academy, and if he felt threatened by the sight of a woman achieving what he could not. The warden had actually absorbed these jibes surprisingly well (Lisbon had a feeling that Darcy had prepped him on what to expect before he came inside) and he pushed the box across the table at Jane and stomped out of the room, returning with another box which he dumped on the table in front of Lisbon.

"Begging your pardon, _Officer_," he said, sarcastically, as she scowled at him.

"It's Agent," she corrected him, crisply.

"Narcissist," hissed Jane under his breath as the warden sloped out the door, slamming it behind him.

They trawled through file after file, through names and dates and marital statuses and exam results, looking for any kind of red flag such as an association with a known criminal or any unexplained leave of absence.

"This one," said Jane, presently. "Corbin Miller. It says here he's got a sealed juvie record."

"So?" said Lisbon, as she tossed aside Stephen Waitrose's file. "Cho's got one of those too, and he's no serial killer's apprentice."

"Not everybody turns out like Cho," said Jane patiently. "It takes serious willpower to want to turn your life around, and not everyone's got it. Look, I'm not saying this guy's definitely the one, but I think it's something we should look into."

"Darcy said the warden vetted everybody before he hired them. Surely it would have come up in the interview."

"Meh, Red John could have coached him in what to say. Can we get the team to do a more thorough check on Miller? See if Grace can't dig around and unseal those sealed records? Juvenile hall would be the ideal place for Red John to find disciples. Get them while they're young, gain their trust, train them up and put them into jobs where they'll be the most useful to him."

Lisbon cringed at the thought. Juvenile hall was supposed to be a place for kids to clean up their act, not become pawns for a sociopath. But the more she thought about it, the more Jane's theory made sense.

"I'll get the team on it," she said. She put in a quick call to Cho, who told her he'd get Van Pelt on it right away, as their case was almost closed.

"But do it subtly," she told him. "We know Red John has tapped into the DOJ network once, there's no saying he won't do it again."

"You got it, boss." He rang off.

"Team closed their case," she reported to Jane as she put her phone away.

"Good on them," he said, perusing yet another file. "But you must have been confident that they could do it, or you wouldn't have left them to come here."

"Of course."

There was a disturbance outside the door, with some muffled whispering and several people visible through the small window.

"We seem to have gained an audience," he said, nodding towards them. "No doubt our good friend the warden has made it his business to tell all his men what we're doing."

"It's understandable," said Lisbon. "If a little unprofessional." She reached for the next file with a small sigh of annoyance.

"They shouldn't take it so personally," said Jane, sucking his finger, which had just received a paper cut. "When it comes to Red John, the only people I trust 100% are you, and our team."

"What about Darcy?" she asked.

He shrugged. "She's getting there, but I don't forget that she accused me of being Red John, not to mention she turned Wainwright against me."

"To be fair, you did a pretty good job of that yourself," she remarked. "You were lucky Cho and Rigsby were there to hold him back the day he fired you, or he would've beaten you to a pulp."

He smiled. "You wouldn't have let him hurt me."

"Not seriously, but I might have let him get in a punch or two," she said. "You were incredibly rude to him."

"Poor Luther," he sighed. "Whatever his faults, he didn't deserve what happened to him."

"They never do."

The door opened and Darcy stepped through it. "Found anything?" she asked.

"Not really," lied Jane, smoothly, and Darcy gave a satisfied smile.

"I thought not," she said. "I told you that you were wasting your time with this."

"Ah well. No stone unturned and all that," said Jane. "You can go ahead and tell the warden we're done with these if you like."

"I will," she said. "Now would you like to see Lorelei?"

Jane shook his head. "Let's leave it for today," he said. "Let her wonder why I haven't come back, it'll mess with her head, put pictures in her mind."

"I think you two put enough pictures in _everyone's_ minds yesterday," said Darcy, slyly. At their alarmed looks, she grinned at them. "The guards told me what happened at the end of your interview."

"Oh," said Lisbon in a small voice. "Well I guess that makes one less person we have to hide it from."

"For what it's worth, I wish you two luck," she went on. "Though maybe you should confine it to your motel room in the future. I doubt the CBI would be as understanding as me."

"Thanks for the tip, Susan," said Jane.

They left the prison twenty minutes later with Darcy begging them not to embark on any of what she called "Jane's Hail Mary passes" without speaking to her about it first.

Lisbon lead the way to the car as though she wanted to put as much distance between herself and the prison as quickly as possible. But when she reached the SUV, instead of turning the car on, she set the keys on the dash and massaged her temples with both hands.

"Headache?" asked Jane, remembering her complaint from last night.

"Yes," she said. "But mostly humiliation."

"Humiliation?" he said. "Because of what Darcy said?"

"Of course," she said. "What must she think of us now?"

"I don't really care," said Jane. "I'm more concerned about what Red John thinks. If there really is a mole in that prison, they'll have told him all about it by now."

She started the engine and nosed the car out of their parking spot.

"And?" she said.

Jane glared at her. "Lisbon, are you familiar with the term 'sitting duck?'" he snapped. "If there was a target on your back before, it just became a big red bullseye."

Lisbon said nothing. This was hardly new information, after all. She knew she must be second only to Jane himself on Red John's 'To Kill' list. She was just counting on the hope that they would get to him first.

They drove on in silence for a while, as the radio twittered away with voices, advertisements, and every so often a song or two.

"Maybe we should cool things between us for a while," Jane said, as the closing bars of Queen's 'Bohemian Rhapsody' died away.

"What?" she said, accidentally punching the accelerator a little too hard in her shock and making the car shoot forwards from an intersection like a bullet from a gun. As she struggled to regain control, Jane went on.

"I'll never forgive myself if something were to happen to you," he said. "And if it came about because I put my own selfish desires above your safety…"

She groaned. "For the love of God Jane, not this rubbish again. You can't keep putting your life on hold because of what Red John _might_ do. You don't even know for sure that there is a mole in the prison."

"But what if there is?" he persisted. "Red John could take you away from me at any time. He could cut you up in your bed, or kidnap you and turn you into a vegetable like Kristina Frye, or who knows what else?"

He stopped talking as the two images sprang into his mind. Lisbon, dead in her motel room, slashed to pieces, toenails painted with her own blood, a smiley face on the wall behind her, followed by Lisbon in a darkened room, unharmed but unresponsive, with a blank stare and no recognition of him at all. Still as a statue for all eternity like his friend Kristina. Either way, she'd be lost to him forever. Which would be worse? He couldn't decide.

"That's a possibility whether we're together or not," she said. "You said yourself that Red John thinks I'm your Achilles heel. Do you really expect him to stop thinking that just if we stop sleeping together?"

"No, but I don't want to continue giving him added incentives to come after you. There are too many as it is already!"

With a sigh, Lisbon flicked on the indicator and pulled over to the side of the road, sending dirt and pebbles flying and releasing a cloud of dust into the air. She turned off the engine, and the radio went instantly dead, leaving a ringing silence around them.

"Patrick," she said quietly. "No matter what you do, there is no way to guarantee my safety anymore. But if we're going to be together, it means we're together on everything, including taking down Red John."

"I can't let you-" he began, but she cut him off.

"You don't get it, do you? This isn't just about you anymore. I know you're used to being a one-man show, but those days are over. And if you're not ready to accept that, you need to tell me right now. I know what I'm getting into," she said. "I've always known, ever since I realized I'd fallen for you. And I'm willing to fight for us. Are you?"

**Sorry about the cliffhanger, but what's a story without conflict? Please don't kill me, but have faith that Donna will fix things between our beloved Jisbon. Hope you enjoyed.**


	8. Chapter 8

**There seems to have been a problem in posting this the first time. I'm reposting in hopes that the glitch will be gone. Thanks for your patience!**

A/N: Waterbaby134 and I continue to be so amazed at the response to this fic. You guys have been so kind! In this chapter, you will find some more romance, fluffiness, action, and a Jane plan. Proceed at your own risk :).

**Chapter 8**

Her last words hung in the car like so much desert dust, until finally he reached his hand across the center console to take hers.

"I will fight for you, Teresa Lisbon, with everything that I am."

"_Us_, Jane. I said _us," _she said emphatically, holding tightly to him so he wouldn't wiggle out of this, either emotionally or physically.

He sighed, running his other hand through his hair and briefly closing his eyes. Then he smiled a little and looked back at her in mild exasperation.

"You're like a dog with a bone, aren't you?"

"It takes one to know one, eh, Fido," she said, her smile grim. He looked down where their fingers were joined and he gave hers a little squeeze.

"I'm afraid, Teresa," he said, suddenly serious again. It took a lot for him to admit this. "It would be just like him to try to repeat history."

"The difference is that you aren't living your life with blinders on anymore. You know what he's capable of, and you—_we_—won't let down our guards, not for a minute, right?"

"No," he whispered, his mouth barely forming the word.

"Jane-?"

"No," he said more strongly, and he brought her hand to his lips. She nodded in satisfaction, feeling as if she had won, at least for the moment. But then he dropped the subject abruptly, and she wondered if she could actually get whiplash from a conversation with him.

"Now, for crying out loud, woman, can you please turn on the car again, I feel like I'm slowly roasting in an oversized oven." He wiped at his brow dramatically.

She rolled her eyes and let go of his hand to turn on the vehicle, shooting him a sideways glance before signalling and returning to the freeway. He was looking out the window, his expression solemn once more.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Much later, Jane made a dinner run to the only fast-food joint in the oasis, and they ate cheeseburgers in his bed.

"All we seem to do lately is eat and have sex," Lisbon said, the sheet covering her naked body, the same position where he'd left her.

"And you're complaining about this?" he asked dryly, setting down the paper sack containing their junkfood.

"Well, if we keep this up, there's going to be a lot more of me to love."

Jane stripped to his boxers again to crawl between the sheets beside her. She handed him his burger once he'd gotten comfortable.

"Gladly. You could use some meat on your bones," he offered. "You skip way too many meals." He grinned as he turned and held out a French fry to her lips. She ate from his hand and felt a little thrill as his eyes darkened just watching her chew.

"Are you saying you don't find me attractive?" She shook her head in mock sadness. "Together only two days and already with the complaints."

"Just like a woman to fish for compliments."

"Just like a man to withhold them."

They grinned around the straws in their milkshakes and then spent a few more minutes feeding each other fries and lightly kissing in thanks after each small gift. It was totally silly and romantic and Lisbon never realized how much she longed to have this with a man. The fact that the man was Jane made these moments a bit surreal, but she supposed she shouldn't be surprised that loving this man might actually be..._fun_.

When she finished the last of her burger, she crumpled the paper wrapper, tossing it into the small wastebasket across the room.

"Two points!" she exclaimed.

"What am I, in bed with Rigsby?" Jane asked in amusement at her childish antics.

But then he followed suit with his own wrapper, grinning triumphantly when he not only made that shot, but followed it up with their napkins and the French fry box. He made fake audience applause noises before kissing her cheek and pulling her close to his side. She laughed in sheer bliss, feeling decidedly young and deeply in love.

It was amazing to her that they could revert back to their old comfort level, but with an added intimacy that made both of them happier than either had been in years. She never dreamed it could be like this with him, that sex had only added a new dimension to their friendship. And here she'd been afraid to ruin it.

"We need to talk about the plan tomorrow," Jane said reluctantly, breaking the light-hearted spell.

She sighed, taking their empty cups and setting them on the bedside table. Well, so much for bliss...

"Seriously? We've gone over it ten times already."

"Well, the whole thing hinges on how realistic it seems. Lorelei mustn't suspect anything or we'll never be able to secure her trust. While I was out, I got what I needed from the convenience store. All that's left is the little beauty from the prison infirmary and we're set. You have your Taser, right?"

It was against regulations for even police officers to carry a gun in the prison.

"Yes, Jane," she said indulgently. He'd already asked her that twice. She shook her head at the role reversal; usually it was she who was nervous about one of his plans.

"Nothing can go wrong," he muttered, kissing her temple. "It has to be the best con job I've ever done."

"Even better than your last?" she queried dryly, one hand stroking his stomach beneath the covers. She smiled when he trembled, then he reached down to still her wandering hand with his.

"Yes, my saucy temptress," he said, "Can we please focus on the subject at...Oh, God...Lisbon..."

Lisbon's other hand had dipped even lower, tracing him through his underwear. Except for his sudden increase in breathing, he became completely silent, his eyes closing, letting her work him to a frenzy with just her fingers. It was truly a joy for her to be able to distract him for a change, to ruin his normally dogged determination with only a touch. She never imagined she could wield so much power over the unflappable Patrick Jane. How might things have been different if they'd begun this affair years ago? She might have kept him from doing all kinds of stupid things...

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next day they arrived at the prison, each of them a bundle of nerves despite having gone over the plan ad nauseum the night before. That morning he'd awakened her with a spate of softly urgent kisses down her spine. She'd shivered and allowed him to lift her hips, entering her slowly from behind, his bare chest pleasantly heavy against her back. He'd brought them both to ecstasy that way, his warm breath in her ear whispering his love for her over and over.

Still, despite the languid beginning to their day, they were both tense once again as they entered the starkly imposing building. Darcy looked like she was having second thoughts as she ushered them into the observation room for a few final words before the _attack._

"This may be the stupidest thing I've ever been a party to," she told them.

"Just wait," muttered Lisbon, and Jane frowned at her disloyalty. She shrugged, not sorry in the least. He had a way of making people do things they wouldn't ordinarily do, mainly because he usually got positive results, but also because he was too damn charming for his own good. If Darcy were allowing herself to be caught up in his schemes already, it wouldn't take long til she began drinking just as heavily of the Patrick Jane Kool-Aid as Lisbon herself did. It was inevitable.

"Did you get what I need from the infirmary?" Jane asked, his voice clipped and businesslike. She reached into her desk drawer and handed the small item to him, which he pocketed gently in his suit coat. "Thanks. Your men up to speed now?"

"Yes; they know what to do." She looked wryly over at Lisbon. "Is he always like this?"

Lisbon's lips quirked. "We had a conversation just yesterday about dogs with bones..."

"I'm more concerned about women with Tasers," Jane shot back.

"Don't worry about me," said Darcy. "Worry about keeping out of my way."

"That's precisely what I'm talking about."

"Can we please just get on with this?" said Lisbon, her nerves by no means soothed by the tension-laden banter. "It happens when she's being taken to the interrogation room, right?"

"Yes," replied Darcy. "Right before we get to the door, so Jane can be conveniently nearby."

"Good," said Jane.

Just then, a tall, Native American man with intent gray eyes entered the office.

"This is Special Agent Brian Anoatubby," Darcy said by way of introduction. "He'll be our assassin," she explained.

They shook hands all around but Jane held the man's large paw in his, checking his pulse with his thumb and looking deeply into the man's serious eyes. He must have been satisfied with what he saw, for he eventually nodded and released his grip. Anaotubby raised an amused eyebrow at Darcy, who shrugged as if silently saying, _I warned you._

Jane handed the small paper sack from the convenience store to Anoatubby. "This is for you. Make it look good."

They went over the plan yet again with the agent, and Darcy had to admit she'd notified the warden of what they were up to.

"How'd that go over?" asked Lisbon.

"Not well. But we're the FBI; we're supposed to know what we're doing."

"He didn't mind his guards being a part of it?"asked Anaotubby.

"He minded, all right," said Darcy, "but I left him little choice."

"See, Lisbon, I told you she was cool."

Lisbon felt her face flush at his implication she'd ever said otherwise. She turned to the federal agent. "Thanks, Susan, for all your help."

"I blame Miss Martins for Luther's death as much as I do Red John. While this is certainly unorthodox, not to mention unethical, ends do sometimes justify the means, don't they Patrick?"

"Indeed," he replied.

Darcy picked up her Walkie Talkie. "Guards, bring the prisoner to the interrogation room. It's time."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Try to relax," said Jane softly as they sat in their chairs awaiting Lorelei's arrival.

He saw her close her eyes and bow her head briefly, knowing she was saying a prayer to herself. Well, whatever worked; he was almost tempted to do the same himself.

The sound of chains jingling from her leg shackles announced the prisoner's approach down the hall, and Jane and Lisbon tensed. The moment she was in view, Anaotubby would make his move. So it would seem more realistic, the guards weren't informed of the exact time the attack would occur. Even though Jane and Lisbon were expecting it, when the commotion came, Lisbon nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Hey!" yelled a guard.

"Stop him!" yelled the other escort, at the same time struggling to calm Lorelei, who was looking down at her arm in shock.

Lisbon ran to the doorway, in time to see the FBI agent running down the hall. She caught sight of Lorelei, a smear of green slime on her forearm, before she chased after the assassin. "Stop!" she yelled for effect. She pulled out her Taser and pressed the trigger, sending out two stun probes that caught him in the legs. Down went Anaotubby, and immediately Lisbon cut the power, pulling out her handcuffs while hoping she'd put on a believable show for the prisoner.

Jane and the other guards lowered Lorelei to the floor. Darcy emerged from the observation room, Taser drawn, a look of concern on her face.

"What the hell happened?" she asked.

"Don't touch her arm," Jane told them. "She's been poisoned. I've seen this before." The guards backed away quite convincingly.

"Patrick," Lorelei said, brown eyes wide and watering with fear. "Oh my God, don't let me die!"

"I won't." From his pocket he pulled out the syringe Darcy had procured for him, and, removing the protective cap, he pulled up Lorelei's sleeve and plunged the needle into her upper arm.

"I was afraid this would happen," he told her, trying to make his voice sound shaken—not as difficult as he might have thought. "I came prepared. I didn't want to lose you like we lost Rebecca." He watched as her eyes became glassy from the effects of the shot.

"Stay with me, sweetheart," he told her, tapping her face gently. "Stay with me."

"Patrick," she said in a frightened whisper, before she passed out completely.

"Lorelei?" he said, lightly slapping her cheeks again. He lifted her eyelids to see that her pupils were completely dilated. He stood up.

"She's out," he said.

Lisbon opened Anaotubby's cuffs, and helped the man up, still slightly stunned from the brief contact with the Taser.

"Jesus," he was saying. "I forgot how much that hurts."

"Sorry," said Lisbon. "Thanks for volunteering."

"You'd better get out of here, just in case she comes to unexpectedly," Jane cautioned.

He nodded. "Hope you get something out of her from this."

"Me too," said Jane. He shook the man's hand and watched in sympathy as he limped back down the hallway. Darcy waved in grateful farewell.

"_Sweetheart?_" Lisbon asked, rounding on Jane, having heard and disliked immensely the endearment he'd bestowed upon the "dying" woman.

Jane shrugged. "I was in character—had to make her think I really cared what was happening to her." She gave him a look that spoke volumes as to how he was going to pay for that later.

"Let's get her to the infirmary," said Darcy, and the two guards picked up Lorelei's limp body and carried her toward the small clinic, all ready and waiting for the upcoming new occupants of the prison.

They laid Lorelei on a hospital bed, re-clamping her cuffs to the rails.

Jane grabbed a paper towel from a nearby sink and wiped off the green aloe vera gel from Lorelei's skin. It seemed to have worked as a suitable representation of the actual poison that had killed Sam Bosco's demented secretary, Rebecca. If Lorelei had been with Red John as long as he suspected, she likely would have known about the stuff. The shot he gave her, the so-called antidote, was merely a harmless sedative.

"When she wakes up, and realizes she's alive, she'll think she passed out as a result of the poison," said Jane.

"You'll be her hero," Lisbon said. "Your forethought saved her life. I wonder what she'll think of Red John now."

"I've got to say, Jane, if this works, I'll never doubt you again," said Darcy.

"Well, that would be a mistake," teased Lisbon, but she found she was as proud of Jane's idea as if it were her own. Jane, inordinately pleased himself at how well things had gone thus far, acknowledged Lisbon's jab with a grin.

"Things don't always go as planned," Jane replied sheepishly to Darcy. "The real test will be her state of mind when she wakes up."

"Here's a picture of Anaotubby," Darcy said, handing Jane a four-by-five-inch color photo of the FBI agent. She smiled. "May he rest in peace."

"Thanks. And you all were great actors," Jane said, spreading his arms out to include the guards as well as the two female agents. "Had me convinced."

"Yes, thanks, guys," said Darcy to the guards. They nodded and took their places at the infirmary door. "Well, I'll leave you to her. Let me know when she wakes up."

When Darcy left the clinic, Jane and Lisbon took a seat on a nearby bed to await sleeping beauty's awakening. Careless of possible witnesses, he held her hand, then kissed her gently on the mouth.

"If this doesn't work—" Lisbon began.

"It will," interrupted Jane, having regained his confidence. "I could see it in her eyes—she was terrified, not happy to die like some of Red John's other minions. It reinforces for me just how different she is. She hasn't been killed, or brainwashed, and she was given permission to hurt me. She's somehow important to him. She definitely seemed shocked that he'd sent someone to kill her."

"Makes you think she has some bigger purpose, doesn't it?" she asked.

"Yes. Shh...she's coming around," he said, having kept his eyes trained on the prisoner. He hopped down from the bed and went over to stand beside Lorelei, watching her eyes flutter behind their lids. She gave a little moan, then slowly opened her eyes.

"Lorelei?" Jane said. "We were afraid you weren't going to wake up. You've been out for hours." Lisbon was always amazed at the ease with which he lied.

"Huh?" Lorelei said groggily, then he watched as everything came back in a rush, and she tried desperately to sit up, brushing at her arm in terror. "No! Please! Get it off me! Get it—"

"Hush, now," said Jane, restraining her, and pushing her head gently back on the pillow. "You've had a horrible scare. The doctor's been here and gone. He said it was lucky I had that antidote with me or you'd have been a goner."

Her eyes widened. "You-?"

"Yes. You're going to be all right now. Lisbon caught the man who did this to you, but he managed to poison himself before we could get more of the antidote to him."

Lisbon stepped forward with the picture of Anaotubby. "You recognize this man? Seen him hanging around Red John?"

She squinted at the photo, then shook her head. "No." She closed her eyes again, still a little disoriented. "I don't understand," she whispered to herself. "He said he would protect me. He said he'd break me out when the time was right."

"I told you, you couldn't trust him," Jane said. "He's a murderer, a master manipulator. Lisbon, could you please bring Lorelei some water. You'd like some water, wouldn't you?"

Lorelei nodded, and Lisbon took a paper cup from a dispenser and filled it at the sink. She gritted her teeth at the prospect of helping the bitch, but her small act of kindness might garner her a few needed points in the trust department. She held the cup to her lips and the woman drank it gratefully.

"Thank you. I just feel so groggy now..."

"It's the effects of the poison along with the strength of the antidote," said Jane reassuringly. He had a wonderfully soothing bedside manner, Lisbon thought idly. He might have made a good doctor.

"Well, you get some rest now. We'll talk more when you feel up to it."

"Thank you. And Patrick...thanks for saving my life. I—I didn't want to die."

Jane nodded, then tenderly brushed the dark hair from her eyes. "I know. I'm glad I was there." Lisbon averted her eyes, though of course, she reassured herself, he was just using their previous connection to manipulate her.

They left Lorelei soon after, and one of the guards stepped inside the infirmary to watch her more closely. In the relative privacy of the observation room, Jane pulled Lisbon into his arms and kissed her with the passion of residual adrenaline mixed with triumph. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back wholeheartedly until they heard Darcy clearing her throat in the doorway. They broke apart and Lisbon blushed furiously.

"Is Lorelei awake?" Darcy asked dryly.

"Yes," replied Jane with an unapologetic grin. "She said Red John had told her he would try to break her out. I don't know what he's waiting for, but I think we might have scared her sufficiently to get something more out of her when it sinks in what _almost_ happened to her."

"Good. I'll let her recover a bit more and get her back to her cell. Good work, you two. And seriously...get a room."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

That evening, (after continuation of their private celebration back at the motel) Jane and Lisbon returned to the prison. Lorelei was brought to the interrogation room, and she seemed much more subdued than usual. Much of her confidence seemed to have vanished, and she even seemed smaller to Lisbon in her oversized prison uniform.

"Feeling better?" asked Jane from his seat across from her.

"Yes. A bit of a headache still."

"That's understandable."

Lisbon slid the picture of Anaotubby across the table to her. It was Lisbon's turn to lie. "Now that you're more...alert...do you recognize him? His name is Parker Stewart. He's been posing as an FBI agent, that's how he got in here."

"No. I told you. I don't get this at all. Not that you two would understand. This has to have been a mistake. Maybe someone else—"

"Who?" asked Lisbon. "Who else would want you dead, if not that bastard Red John? Come on, Lorelei. Think."

"I—I don't know."

Lisbon felt Jane's hand grip her leg beneath the table. He raised an eyebrow at her. _A little too persistent? _She frowned, then closed her mouth in a resigned line.

"Agent Lisbon, could you leave us alone for a little while, please? Why don't you go to the break room and make me a sandwich?"

"What?" She said, her eyes narrowing dangerously. She felt the squeeze again on her thigh and looked down at his hand angrily. "Fine," she said, and rose from the table.

"Thank you, Teresa. And you may as well make one for yourself while you're at it."

"Go to hell," she muttered on her way out.

When she left the room behind, Lisbon smiled. Good cop, bad cop. Worked every time.

"Now then," said Jane. "You must be pretty angry at Red John. Probably scared too."

"I still think this was a mistake. It doesn't make any sense."

Jane reached across the table to touch her hand. "He's failed you, just like he's failed every one of his disciples whose ever been caught. But I can help you, Lorelei. You realize that when he finds out this first attempt failed, he'll try again. There won't be a prison or a safe house in the world that will be out of his reach. You know this, maybe even better than I."

She nodded, and he was secretly pleased at the renewed fear in her eyes.

"Give me a name, Lorelei. Just a name."

"I can't. He'd kill me for sure."

"He's going to kill you regardless."

"No," she said, but she was more hesitant now.

"I don't want anything to happen to you," he said, looking soulfully into her eyes. "What happened between us; you know now I was undercover, but you were right. You were my first since my wife—it wasn't just sex, Lorelei. Not for me."

_I hope you can forgive me for that one, Teresa._

She looked sceptical. "But you're with Teresa now. I'm no fool, Patrick. I see how you look at her, how you kiss her. You're trying to manipulate me now just like Red John is."

_Success,_ he thought. _She admits that Red John doesn't have her best interests at heart._

"I wouldn't think of it," he told her. "You're too smart for that. But if you tell me where Red John is, we can protect you. Come on, what do you have to lose now? A name, Lorelei. Just a name," he repeated like a mantra.

She looked down at her hands, firmly cuffed to the table, then her eyes came up to his again, some of the old confidence glinting there.

"I want a deal as well as protection."

"What kind of deal?" he asked, and his heart was pounding now. She was about to cave, he knew it.

"Complete immunity. Witness protection."

"Done and done."

"Do you have the authority to make this deal?"

"Of course," he lied. "They told me to do whatever it takes to get information about Red John. I think this falls under that umbrella."

Jane could imagine Lisbon and Darcy on the other side of the glass, probably holding each other back from stopping the interrogation due to all the laws he just broke by telling her this.

She hesitated again, fear and denial warring within her. She'd trusted Red John, loved him even. He'd been her whole world for so long she didn't quite know how to live without him. This would be the ultimate betrayal, and she may well pay the ultimate price for it.

"He's betrayed _you_, Lorelei," said Jane, as if reading her mind. "You owe him nothing now."

She turned her head to her shoulder and wiped the sudden tears from her cheeks. Perhaps there was a name she could give him, one that might get her a deal yet still be vague enough that should Red John come through for her, she could honestly say that she told them nothing Jane didn't already know in his gut.

"Visualize," she said softly. "Now give me my goddamn witness protection."

A/N: Waterbaby tells me she would have been much tougher in the resolution of her cliffhanger, so I hope I didn't disappoint. If you decide to review, please make doubly sure you're logged in before posting it. If you don't hear back from us for the last chapter, there were many more "guests" than usual, so I think people didn't realize they weren't logged in. Thanks to those guests for their reviews!


	9. Chapter 8 repost

**There seems to have been a problem in posting this the first time. I'm reposting in hopes that the glitch will be gone. Thanks for your patience!**

A/N: Waterbaby134 and I continue to be so amazed at the response to this fic. You guys have been so kind! In this chapter, you will find some more romance, fluffiness, action, and a Jane plan. Proceed at your own risk :).

**Chapter 8**

Her last words hung in the car like so much desert dust, until finally he reached his hand across the center console to take hers.

"I will fight for you, Teresa Lisbon, with everything that I am."

"_Us_, Jane. I said _us," _she said emphatically, holding tightly to him so he wouldn't wiggle out of this, either emotionally or physically.

He sighed, running his other hand through his hair and briefly closing his eyes. Then he smiled a little and looked back at her in mild exasperation.

"You're like a dog with a bone, aren't you?"

"It takes one to know one, eh, Fido," she said, her smile grim. He looked down where their fingers were joined and he gave hers a little squeeze.

"I'm afraid, Teresa," he said, suddenly serious again. It took a lot for him to admit this. "It would be just like him to try to repeat history."

"The difference is that you aren't living your life with blinders on anymore. You know what he's capable of, and you—_we_—won't let down our guards, not for a minute, right?"

"No," he whispered, his mouth barely forming the word.

"Jane-?"

"No," he said more strongly, and he brought her hand to his lips. She nodded in satisfaction, feeling as if she had won, at least for the moment. But then he dropped the subject abruptly, and she wondered if she could actually get whiplash from a conversation with him.

"Now, for crying out loud, woman, can you please turn on the car again, I feel like I'm slowly roasting in an oversized oven." He wiped at his brow dramatically.

She rolled her eyes and let go of his hand to turn on the vehicle, shooting him a sideways glance before signalling and returning to the freeway. He was looking out the window, his expression solemn once more.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Much later, Jane made a dinner run to the only fast-food joint in the oasis, and they ate cheeseburgers in his bed.

"All we seem to do lately is eat and have sex," Lisbon said, the sheet covering her naked body, the same position where he'd left her.

"And you're complaining about this?" he asked dryly, setting down the paper sack containing their junkfood.

"Well, if we keep this up, there's going to be a lot more of me to love."

Jane stripped to his boxers again to crawl between the sheets beside her. She handed him his burger once he'd gotten comfortable.

"Gladly. You could use some meat on your bones," he offered. "You skip way too many meals." He grinned as he turned and held out a French fry to her lips. She ate from his hand and felt a little thrill as his eyes darkened just watching her chew.

"Are you saying you don't find me attractive?" She shook her head in mock sadness. "Together only two days and already with the complaints."

"Just like a woman to fish for compliments."

"Just like a man to withhold them."

They grinned around the straws in their milkshakes and then spent a few more minutes feeding each other fries and lightly kissing in thanks after each small gift. It was totally silly and romantic and Lisbon never realized how much she longed to have this with a man. The fact that the man was Jane made these moments a bit surreal, but she supposed she shouldn't be surprised that loving this man might actually be..._fun_.

When she finished the last of her burger, she crumpled the paper wrapper, tossing it into the small wastebasket across the room.

"Two points!" she exclaimed.

"What am I, in bed with Rigsby?" Jane asked in amusement at her childish antics.

But then he followed suit with his own wrapper, grinning triumphantly when he not only made that shot, but followed it up with their napkins and the French fry box. He made fake audience applause noises before kissing her cheek and pulling her close to his side. She laughed in sheer bliss, feeling decidedly young and deeply in love.

It was amazing to her that they could revert back to their old comfort level, but with an added intimacy that made both of them happier than either had been in years. She never dreamed it could be like this with him, that sex had only added a new dimension to their friendship. And here she'd been afraid to ruin it.

"We need to talk about the plan tomorrow," Jane said reluctantly, breaking the light-hearted spell.

She sighed, taking their empty cups and setting them on the bedside table. Well, so much for bliss...

"Seriously? We've gone over it ten times already."

"Well, the whole thing hinges on how realistic it seems. Lorelei mustn't suspect anything or we'll never be able to secure her trust. While I was out, I got what I needed from the convenience store. All that's left is the little beauty from the prison infirmary and we're set. You have your Taser, right?"

It was against regulations for even police officers to carry a gun in the prison.

"Yes, Jane," she said indulgently. He'd already asked her that twice. She shook her head at the role reversal; usually it was she who was nervous about one of his plans.

"Nothing can go wrong," he muttered, kissing her temple. "It has to be the best con job I've ever done."

"Even better than your last?" she queried dryly, one hand stroking his stomach beneath the covers. She smiled when he trembled, then he reached down to still her wandering hand with his.

"Yes, my saucy temptress," he said, "Can we please focus on the subject at...Oh, God...Lisbon..."

Lisbon's other hand had dipped even lower, tracing him through his underwear. Except for his sudden increase in breathing, he became completely silent, his eyes closing, letting her work him to a frenzy with just her fingers. It was truly a joy for her to be able to distract him for a change, to ruin his normally dogged determination with only a touch. She never imagined she could wield so much power over the unflappable Patrick Jane. How might things have been different if they'd begun this affair years ago? She might have kept him from doing all kinds of stupid things...

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next day they arrived at the prison, each of them a bundle of nerves despite having gone over the plan ad nauseum the night before. That morning he'd awakened her with a spate of softly urgent kisses down her spine. She'd shivered and allowed him to lift her hips, entering her slowly from behind, his bare chest pleasantly heavy against her back. He'd brought them both to ecstasy that way, his warm breath in her ear whispering his love for her over and over.

Still, despite the languid beginning to their day, they were both tense once again as they entered the starkly imposing building. Darcy looked like she was having second thoughts as she ushered them into the observation room for a few final words before the _attack._

"This may be the stupidest thing I've ever been a party to," she told them.

"Just wait," muttered Lisbon, and Jane frowned at her disloyalty. She shrugged, not sorry in the least. He had a way of making people do things they wouldn't ordinarily do, mainly because he usually got positive results, but also because he was too damn charming for his own good. If Darcy were allowing herself to be caught up in his schemes already, it wouldn't take long til she began drinking just as heavily of the Patrick Jane Kool-Aid as Lisbon herself did. It was inevitable.

"Did you get what I need from the infirmary?" Jane asked, his voice clipped and businesslike. She reached into her desk drawer and handed the small item to him, which he pocketed gently in his suit coat. "Thanks. Your men up to speed now?"

"Yes; they know what to do." She looked wryly over at Lisbon. "Is he always like this?"

Lisbon's lips quirked. "We had a conversation just yesterday about dogs with bones..."

"I'm more concerned about women with Tasers," Jane shot back.

"Don't worry about me," said Darcy. "Worry about keeping out of my way."

"That's precisely what I'm talking about."

"Can we please just get on with this?" said Lisbon, her nerves by no means soothed by the tension-laden banter. "It happens when she's being taken to the interrogation room, right?"

"Yes," replied Darcy. "Right before we get to the door, so Jane can be conveniently nearby."

"Good," said Jane.

Just then, a tall, Native American man with intent gray eyes entered the office.

"This is Special Agent Brian Anoatubby," Darcy said by way of introduction. "He'll be our assassin," she explained.

They shook hands all around but Jane held the man's large paw in his, checking his pulse with his thumb and looking deeply into the man's serious eyes. He must have been satisfied with what he saw, for he eventually nodded and released his grip. Anaotubby raised an amused eyebrow at Darcy, who shrugged as if silently saying, _I warned you._

Jane handed the small paper sack from the convenience store to Anoatubby. "This is for you. Make it look good."

They went over the plan yet again with the agent, and Darcy had to admit she'd notified the warden of what they were up to.

"How'd that go over?" asked Lisbon.

"Not well. But we're the FBI; we're supposed to know what we're doing."

"He didn't mind his guards being a part of it?"asked Anaotubby.

"He minded, all right," said Darcy, "but I left him little choice."

"See, Lisbon, I told you she was cool."

Lisbon felt her face flush at his implication she'd ever said otherwise. She turned to the federal agent. "Thanks, Susan, for all your help."

"I blame Miss Martins for Luther's death as much as I do Red John. While this is certainly unorthodox, not to mention unethical, ends do sometimes justify the means, don't they Patrick?"

"Indeed," he replied.

Darcy picked up her Walkie Talkie. "Guards, bring the prisoner to the interrogation room. It's time."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Try to relax," said Jane softly as they sat in their chairs awaiting Lorelei's arrival.

He saw her close her eyes and bow her head briefly, knowing she was saying a prayer to herself. Well, whatever worked; he was almost tempted to do the same himself.

The sound of chains jingling from her leg shackles announced the prisoner's approach down the hall, and Jane and Lisbon tensed. The moment she was in view, Anaotubby would make his move. So it would seem more realistic, the guards weren't informed of the exact time the attack would occur. Even though Jane and Lisbon were expecting it, when the commotion came, Lisbon nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Hey!" yelled a guard.

"Stop him!" yelled the other escort, at the same time struggling to calm Lorelei, who was looking down at her arm in shock.

Lisbon ran to the doorway, in time to see the FBI agent running down the hall. She caught sight of Lorelei, a smear of green slime on her forearm, before she chased after the assassin. "Stop!" she yelled for effect. She pulled out her Taser and pressed the trigger, sending out two stun probes that caught him in the legs. Down went Anaotubby, and immediately Lisbon cut the power, pulling out her handcuffs while hoping she'd put on a believable show for the prisoner.

Jane and the other guards lowered Lorelei to the floor. Darcy emerged from the observation room, Taser drawn, a look of concern on her face.

"What the hell happened?" she asked.

"Don't touch her arm," Jane told them. "She's been poisoned. I've seen this before." The guards backed away quite convincingly.

"Patrick," Lorelei said, brown eyes wide and watering with fear. "Oh my God, don't let me die!"

"I won't." From his pocket he pulled out the syringe Darcy had procured for him, and, removing the protective cap, he pulled up Lorelei's sleeve and plunged the needle into her upper arm.

"I was afraid this would happen," he told her, trying to make his voice sound shaken—not as difficult as he might have thought. "I came prepared. I didn't want to lose you like we lost Rebecca." He watched as her eyes became glassy from the effects of the shot.

"Stay with me, sweetheart," he told her, tapping her face gently. "Stay with me."

"Patrick," she said in a frightened whisper, before she passed out completely.

"Lorelei?" he said, lightly slapping her cheeks again. He lifted her eyelids to see that her pupils were completely dilated. He stood up.

"She's out," he said.

Lisbon opened Anaotubby's cuffs, and helped the man up, still slightly stunned from the brief contact with the Taser.

"Jesus," he was saying. "I forgot how much that hurts."

"Sorry," said Lisbon. "Thanks for volunteering."

"You'd better get out of here, just in case she comes to unexpectedly," Jane cautioned.

He nodded. "Hope you get something out of her from this."

"Me too," said Jane. He shook the man's hand and watched in sympathy as he limped back down the hallway. Darcy waved in grateful farewell.

"_Sweetheart?_" Lisbon asked, rounding on Jane, having heard and disliked immensely the endearment he'd bestowed upon the "dying" woman.

Jane shrugged. "I was in character—had to make her think I really cared what was happening to her." She gave him a look that spoke volumes as to how he was going to pay for that later.

"Let's get her to the infirmary," said Darcy, and the two guards picked up Lorelei's limp body and carried her toward the small clinic, all ready and waiting for the upcoming new occupants of the prison.

They laid Lorelei on a hospital bed, re-clamping her cuffs to the rails.

Jane grabbed a paper towel from a nearby sink and wiped off the green aloe vera gel from Lorelei's skin. It seemed to have worked as a suitable representation of the actual poison that had killed Sam Bosco's demented secretary, Rebecca. If Lorelei had been with Red John as long as he suspected, she likely would have known about the stuff. The shot he gave her, the so-called antidote, was merely a harmless sedative.

"When she wakes up, and realizes she's alive, she'll think she passed out as a result of the poison," said Jane.

"You'll be her hero," Lisbon said. "Your forethought saved her life. I wonder what she'll think of Red John now."

"I've got to say, Jane, if this works, I'll never doubt you again," said Darcy.

"Well, that would be a mistake," teased Lisbon, but she found she was as proud of Jane's idea as if it were her own. Jane, inordinately pleased himself at how well things had gone thus far, acknowledged Lisbon's jab with a grin.

"Things don't always go as planned," Jane replied sheepishly to Darcy. "The real test will be her state of mind when she wakes up."

"Here's a picture of Anaotubby," Darcy said, handing Jane a four-by-five-inch color photo of the FBI agent. She smiled. "May he rest in peace."

"Thanks. And you all were great actors," Jane said, spreading his arms out to include the guards as well as the two female agents. "Had me convinced."

"Yes, thanks, guys," said Darcy to the guards. They nodded and took their places at the infirmary door. "Well, I'll leave you to her. Let me know when she wakes up."

When Darcy left the clinic, Jane and Lisbon took a seat on a nearby bed to await sleeping beauty's awakening. Careless of possible witnesses, he held her hand, then kissed her gently on the mouth.

"If this doesn't work—" Lisbon began.

"It will," interrupted Jane, having regained his confidence. "I could see it in her eyes—she was terrified, not happy to die like some of Red John's other minions. It reinforces for me just how different she is. She hasn't been killed, or brainwashed, and she was given permission to hurt me. She's somehow important to him. She definitely seemed shocked that he'd sent someone to kill her."

"Makes you think she has some bigger purpose, doesn't it?" she asked.

"Yes. Shh...she's coming around," he said, having kept his eyes trained on the prisoner. He hopped down from the bed and went over to stand beside Lorelei, watching her eyes flutter behind their lids. She gave a little moan, then slowly opened her eyes.

"Lorelei?" Jane said. "We were afraid you weren't going to wake up. You've been out for hours." Lisbon was always amazed at the ease with which he lied.

"Huh?" Lorelei said groggily, then he watched as everything came back in a rush, and she tried desperately to sit up, brushing at her arm in terror. "No! Please! Get it off me! Get it—"

"Hush, now," said Jane, restraining her, and pushing her head gently back on the pillow. "You've had a horrible scare. The doctor's been here and gone. He said it was lucky I had that antidote with me or you'd have been a goner."

Her eyes widened. "You-?"

"Yes. You're going to be all right now. Lisbon caught the man who did this to you, but he managed to poison himself before we could get more of the antidote to him."

Lisbon stepped forward with the picture of Anaotubby. "You recognize this man? Seen him hanging around Red John?"

She squinted at the photo, then shook her head. "No." She closed her eyes again, still a little disoriented. "I don't understand," she whispered to herself. "He said he would protect me. He said he'd break me out when the time was right."

"I told you, you couldn't trust him," Jane said. "He's a murderer, a master manipulator. Lisbon, could you please bring Lorelei some water. You'd like some water, wouldn't you?"

Lorelei nodded, and Lisbon took a paper cup from a dispenser and filled it at the sink. She gritted her teeth at the prospect of helping the bitch, but her small act of kindness might garner her a few needed points in the trust department. She held the cup to her lips and the woman drank it gratefully.

"Thank you. I just feel so groggy now..."

"It's the effects of the poison along with the strength of the antidote," said Jane reassuringly. He had a wonderfully soothing bedside manner, Lisbon thought idly. He might have made a good doctor.

"Well, you get some rest now. We'll talk more when you feel up to it."

"Thank you. And Patrick...thanks for saving my life. I—I didn't want to die."

Jane nodded, then tenderly brushed the dark hair from her eyes. "I know. I'm glad I was there." Lisbon averted her eyes, though of course, she reassured herself, he was just using their previous connection to manipulate her.

They left Lorelei soon after, and one of the guards stepped inside the infirmary to watch her more closely. In the relative privacy of the observation room, Jane pulled Lisbon into his arms and kissed her with the passion of residual adrenaline mixed with triumph. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back wholeheartedly until they heard Darcy clearing her throat in the doorway. They broke apart and Lisbon blushed furiously.

"Is Lorelei awake?" Darcy asked dryly.

"Yes," replied Jane with an unapologetic grin. "She said Red John had told her he would try to break her out. I don't know what he's waiting for, but I think we might have scared her sufficiently to get something more out of her when it sinks in what _almost_ happened to her."

"Good. I'll let her recover a bit more and get her back to her cell. Good work, you two. And seriously...get a room."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

That evening, (after continuation of their private celebration back at the motel) Jane and Lisbon returned to the prison. Lorelei was brought to the interrogation room, and she seemed much more subdued than usual. Much of her confidence seemed to have vanished, and she even seemed smaller to Lisbon in her oversized prison uniform.

"Feeling better?" asked Jane from his seat across from her.

"Yes. A bit of a headache still."

"That's understandable."

Lisbon slid the picture of Anaotubby across the table to her. It was Lisbon's turn to lie. "Now that you're more...alert...do you recognize him? His name is Parker Stewart. He's been posing as an FBI agent, that's how he got in here."

"No. I told you. I don't get this at all. Not that you two would understand. This has to have been a mistake. Maybe someone else—"

"Who?" asked Lisbon. "Who else would want you dead, if not that bastard Red John? Come on, Lorelei. Think."

"I—I don't know."

Lisbon felt Jane's hand grip her leg beneath the table. He raised an eyebrow at her. _A little too persistent? _She frowned, then closed her mouth in a resigned line.

"Agent Lisbon, could you leave us alone for a little while, please? Why don't you go to the break room and make me a sandwich?"

"What?" She said, her eyes narrowing dangerously. She felt the squeeze again on her thigh and looked down at his hand angrily. "Fine," she said, and rose from the table.

"Thank you, Teresa. And you may as well make one for yourself while you're at it."

"Go to hell," she muttered on her way out.

When she left the room behind, Lisbon smiled. Good cop, bad cop. Worked every time.

"Now then," said Jane. "You must be pretty angry at Red John. Probably scared too."

"I still think this was a mistake. It doesn't make any sense."

Jane reached across the table to touch her hand. "He's failed you, just like he's failed every one of his disciples whose ever been caught. But I can help you, Lorelei. You realize that when he finds out this first attempt failed, he'll try again. There won't be a prison or a safe house in the world that will be out of his reach. You know this, maybe even better than I."

She nodded, and he was secretly pleased at the renewed fear in her eyes.

"Give me a name, Lorelei. Just a name."

"I can't. He'd kill me for sure."

"He's going to kill you regardless."

"No," she said, but she was more hesitant now.

"I don't want anything to happen to you," he said, looking soulfully into her eyes. "What happened between us; you know now I was undercover, but you were right. You were my first since my wife—it wasn't just sex, Lorelei. Not for me."

_I hope you can forgive me for that one, Teresa._

She looked sceptical. "But you're with Teresa now. I'm no fool, Patrick. I see how you look at her, how you kiss her. You're trying to manipulate me now just like Red John is."

_Success,_ he thought. _She admits that Red John doesn't have her best interests at heart._

"I wouldn't think of it," he told her. "You're too smart for that. But if you tell me where Red John is, we can protect you. Come on, what do you have to lose now? A name, Lorelei. Just a name," he repeated like a mantra.

She looked down at her hands, firmly cuffed to the table, then her eyes came up to his again, some of the old confidence glinting there.

"I want a deal as well as protection."

"What kind of deal?" he asked, and his heart was pounding now. She was about to cave, he knew it.

"Complete immunity. Witness protection."

"Done and done."

"Do you have the authority to make this deal?"

"Of course," he lied. "They told me to do whatever it takes to get information about Red John. I think this falls under that umbrella."

Jane could imagine Lisbon and Darcy on the other side of the glass, probably holding each other back from stopping the interrogation due to all the laws he just broke by telling her this.

She hesitated again, fear and denial warring within her. She'd trusted Red John, loved him even. He'd been her whole world for so long she didn't quite know how to live without him. This would be the ultimate betrayal, and she may well pay the ultimate price for it.

"He's betrayed _you_, Lorelei," said Jane, as if reading her mind. "You owe him nothing now."

She turned her head to her shoulder and wiped the sudden tears from her cheeks. Perhaps there was a name she could give him, one that might get her a deal yet still be vague enough that should Red John come through for her, she could honestly say that she told them nothing Jane didn't already know in his gut.

"Visualize," she said softly. "Now give me my goddamn witness protection."

A/N: Waterbaby tells me she would have been much tougher in the resolution of her cliffhanger, so I hope I didn't disappoint. If you decide to review, please make doubly sure you're logged in before posting it. If you don't hear back from us for the last chapter, there were many more "guests" than usual, so I think people didn't realize they weren't logged in. Thanks to those guests for their reviews!


	10. Chapter 9

**Donna tells me she's been getting a lot of PM's and tweets about the progress of this story. Please redirect your ire to me; the hold up is my fault. I hope this chapter at least partly makes up for the wait. Be warned, there is fluff and angst galore.**

**Chapter 9**

"Visualize," Jane repeated, slowly, as though rolling the word around in his mouth to see how it tasted. "So we're talking modern-day cult…enigmatic leader with massive political pull…creepy drawing of an eye for a symbol, that Visualize?"

"You heard me," said Lorelei. "Witness protection. And I want top-grade security status and I want it today. And I swear to God, if anything else happens to me, if I so much as skin my knee before I get into WitSec, the deal's off."

"We will protect you," he said, confidently. "He's going to come at you with everything he has, but he won't succeed. I'll see to it. "

"You're a fool," she said, now no longer tearful, but her voice shaking. Her shock and despair at Red John's attempt on her life was now giving way to an all-encompassing fear. "You of all people should know exactly what he's capable of, and how far his reach extends. You'd better be as clever and scheming as you think you are, Patrick or this is going to end very badly for me, for you, _and_ for your beloved back there." She glanced up at the mirror.

"Why don't you just worry about yourself for now?" he said. "Let me handle the rest."

"Patrick, you need to understand something," she said. "If he finds out what's going on here, if he thinks I've aligned myself with you-" she broke off, taking deep gulps of air in attempt to stave off what seemed like an intense wave of panic, "- we all go down the sinkhole together. He'll kill me-" she gulped –"he'll make a point of killing everyone you've ever cared for, and then –"

"-He'll kill me," Jane supplied, dully. Far from chilling his blood, he couldn't help thinking that death would easily be preferable to facing a lifetime without Lisbon.

But Lorelei shook her head. "No, that would be too easy," she said. "He'll fade into the woodwork. He knows you'd spend your whole life trying to hunt him down, especially if he took someone else away from you." She flicked another glance at the mirror. " He knows you. You'll search for years but you'll never find him. He won't need to kill you but the hopelessness will make you wish you were dead."

"I've been at this for nine years," he said, with a grim smile. "Still alive and kicking."

She gave a weak, sarcastic chuckle. "Look at yourself, Patrick. I've seen footage of your act from back in the day. You played your audience for a bunch of fools. You were suave and so sure of yourself, and now look at you. You're a shadow of what you once were."

"That's a matter of opinion."

"Can you keep this relentless quest for revenge up for the rest of your life?" she asked. "Because that's what it could easily come down to, if you're not careful."

"Let me ask you a question Lorelei. Do you really think I haven't considered every possible outcome over the years I've been doing this? Do you think I haven't planned for every eventuality? I can get us out of this unscathed, Teresa and I can go back to work, and you can get your life back. Don't you want that?"

"What life?" she whispered. "He was my life."

Jane registered the usage of past tense, and resisted the urge to punch the air in celebration. Instead, he reached across the table and took her hand again.

"What am I supposed to do now?" said Lorelei, fretfully, hanging her head. "Everything I am is what he made me. I don't know how to be without him. I don't even know _who_ to be."

With the hand not clutched in hers, Jane gently tilted her chin upwards, forcing her to look straight into his eyes. Her gaze bored into his, and they were as lifeless as the first night they had met, in the dingy back room of the casino. Even as they had joked around over their drinks, her mouth had smiled, but her eyes had not, trained by her master to displace herself from that human weakness of emotion.

Ninety-nine percent of him couldn't care less what happened to her after this was all over, but the other one percent almost hoped she'd find what she was looking for.

"That's the best part," he said, eventually. "You're finally going to get the chance to find out."

"Only if you get us all out of this mess, Patrick," she said. "I'm going to trust you, because I don't have any other choice, but I won't be holding my breath."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"It's an act, it's all an act."

Lisbon replayed the words in her head like a silent mantra, as she watched Jane comfort the disillusioned and frightened Lorelei. She recoiled as he took her hand, cringed when he touched her face, and shivered as he bestowed that intense gaze she adored on the woman who had been Red John's tool of choice to take him away from her forever.

No matter how often she saw him do this, she never failed to marvel at what a superb actor he was. Once, out of curiosity, she'd Googled a few of his old psychic performances and watched in silent awe at his charisma, his command of the stage, and his ability to connect with the audience. It was exactly the same thing as he was doing now, albeit on a much smaller scale; the same qualities too that made him such a good lover, he seemed to look inside her, and know her deepest desires better then she knew them herself.

She watched him weave his web, slowly and delicately, with the unsuspecting Lorelei at its centre, with no idea of what was happening to her. The same woman who just days ago had them all stymied, was crumbling in front of her eyes.

Darcy let out a low whistle. "You know, I never appreciated before how good he really is at this. Hell, I'm almost buying it."

Lisbon forced a little smile as Jane released Lorelei's hand.

"Kind of frightening though," Darcy went on. "How easily it comes to him." She turned to Lisbon. "How can you tell the difference between when he's lying and when he's not?"

Lisbon merely grunted in response. The way he was treating Lorelei right now was almost the exact way he was with her when they were alone. But she wasn't about to admit that to Darcy, and give her yet another reason to look down on her.

Darcy gave a tiny cough. "I'm just saying," she said. "I don't know if I'd be as OK with my man making eyes at another woman as you seem to be." She eyed Lisbon shrewdly.

Truth be told, Lisbon wasn't OK with it. She wasn't OK with the touching, the tenderness, the 'sweetheart,' any of it. But to say it out loud would make her seem petty, or perhaps even insecure when she had no valid reason to be so. By her side all day, and in her bed all night, they'd spent every moment together over the last few days, and had he not taken any opportunity to tell her how much he loved her? He'd been like a broken record, for God's sake, telling her when she woke up, as she fell asleep and a million times in between.

They should be enjoying the honeymoon stage of their relationship, riding the wave of pure bliss that came with new love. Instead, she was here, watching him play cat-and-mouse with a criminal. They should be spending time together, talking, laughing, making love, anything but this.

She just wanted it to be over.

"I trust him," she said, resolutely. She refused to pander to her girlish fears; to be paranoid just because she saw him doing what he did all the time. In order for the plan to work, Lorelei had to be fooled; manipulated, and he held the key.

Darcy looked as if she would have liked to say something else, but then shrugged, and then turned back to the window. "Fair enough," she said, instead. "You know him better than I do. Oh, looks like he's done with her, here he comes."

Turning around herself, Lisbon saw Jane smile once at Lorelei, and rise from his seat. "I'm glad we could come to an understanding," he was saying. "I'm going to go hold up my end; you just make sure you hold up yours."

"When I'm in the comforting arms of WitSec, Patrick," she said, firmly. "And not a moment sooner."

Jane signalled the guards to take her back to her cell, and then strutted into the viewing room like a peacock, victorious, and practically glowing with pride.

"Tell me the truth, ladies. Was I good, or was I good?"

Lisbon rolled her eyes, but Darcy chuckled a little under her breath.

"I'll bet there's an Academy Award out there somewhere with your name on it, Patrick. And I'd like a mention when you make your acceptance speech."

"Naturally," he said, beaming at her, but sobering immediately when he took in Lisbon's icy look.

"Who gave you the authority to make deals with her?" she demanded. "That was never part of the original plan."

"I have to give the impression that I'm in control," he explained. "So I had to play along when she started talking deals. How would it look if I'd had to go consult with my handlers? Hardly a promising sign."

"You made promises to her that you may not be able to keep. Do you realise what's she's asking for? Full immunity. The one Red John associate we've managed to keep alive in custody for longer than a nanosecond, and if we play it your way we let her off scot-free, without even so much as a testimony to show for it."

"Lisbon," he began, soothingly, reaching for her hand, which she whisked away from him. "This is what we wanted. She's going to talk. She's going to give us Red John and all the rest of his network. This is a _good_ thing. Why is it upsetting you so much?"

"We discussed this, Jane!" she snapped. "We agreed on the plan, and now once again, you're twisting things around to suit you."

Ignoring the presence of Agent Darcy, and her small sigh of exasperation, he gently brushed a strand of her hair away from her face, and tucked it behind her ear. Though intending to flinch away from him, she closed her eyes briefly at his touch, and let out a sigh of her own.

"At the risk of being called 'psychic', he said, at which she couldn't help but smile, "something tells me my disregard for our agreement isn't the only thing that's bothering you. Am I right, sweetheart?"

That word. The endearment broke the spell, and she jerked her head away from him.

Sweetheart, indeed. He'd never called her anything like that before, had the time spent with 'Lover' Lorelei inspired him to loosen his tongue?

"We'll talk about this later," she said, brusquely.

Beside them, Darcy cleared her throat and gave a little wave. "Hi guys," she said, sarcastically. "Still here." When she'd regained their attention, she clasped her hands together in a business-like sort of way. "Jane, this is your idea. What's our next move?"

"Simple. We give her what she wants. She named her price, I agreed to it, and now we need to honour it."

"I was afraid of that." She rolled her head from side to side, the bones clicking in her neck as she did so. "I'll see what I can do, but I have to warn you-"

"Susan, you managed to convince an innocent man to willingly take a hit from a Taser this morning. I have complete faith in you."

There was a pause, before she gave a little smirk. "Yeah well, I always thought Anoatubby was a whole lot stupider than he looked."

"That's the spirit," said Jane.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There was nothing left for them to do at the prison until Lorelei's deal had been finalized, which Darcy had said would take at least a couple of hours, so Jane and Lisbon returned to their motel.

Their evenings had formed something of a routine over the past few days revolving mostly around hot showers, sex, food, and more sex, but upon their return to Jane's motel room which had the advantages of a slightly bigger bed, and curtains that actually closed properly (a most important feature) Lisbon disappeared into the bathroom at once and locked the door behind her She'd never done that before, literally shut him out, and it concerned him. Still, he put it down to her wanting a bit of space and tried to put it out of his mind as he switched on the TV and poured them both a glass of soda (the only beverage stocked in the mini-fridge.)

She emerged some time later, fully dressed in her football jersey and sweatpants, another ominous sign. In the heat, she usually favoured the jersey with just panties underneath, (or as in the case of last night, nothing at all, which had proved beneficial when she'd slyly revealed this piece of information to him.)

She sat next to him on the couch (not as closely as usual, he couldn't help thinking) and accepted the proffered soda, taking several gulps.

"What do you feel like for dinner?" he asked. "Not that the café provides a huge amount of options-"

"I'm not hungry. But go grab yourself something if you want."

She hadn't moved her eyes from the TV. He picked up the remote, gave it an irritated click, and the screen went blank.

She made a small noise of displeasure, but said nothing, taking another sip of soda.

"So are you going to tell me why I suddenly feel like I'm sleeping with the Snow Queen?" he asked. "Or am I just supposed to wait till the frostbite sets in?"

Finally, she looked at him, eyebrow raised in a perfect arc. "You mean you don't already know?"

He knew perfectly well that there were a whole host of reasons why Lisbon would be grumpy. He knew she wanted to be back home, that she was missing the team, her office, and her job. She was scared about the possible retribution from Red John, angry with him from deviating from the plan and still a little mistrustful of Agent Darcy. He also knew that she _was_ hungry, whatever she might have said, and probably tired as well for they hadn't been getting a lot of sleep recently.

He ran all of these theories past her, studying her reactions to try and figure out when he hit the right one, but to no avail.

"Don't tell me the great Patrick Jane is stumped?" she said, in tones of mock-horror.

"I'm not stumped," he protested. "I'll figure out what it is soon enough."

She shrugged. "Well there's no hurry, we've got all night _sweetheart." _The venom in her voice was disproportionate to the endearment, her eyes were narrowed and she wasn't smiling at him so much as grimacing. He eyed her uncertainly. His knowledge of Lisbon told him that this couldn't be the problem, even as his knowledge of body language indicators was telling him he was right on the money. It was a fifty-fifty shot, so he steeled himself and took a guess.

"You're mad about how I questioned Lorelei."

"Congratulations," she said, coolly. "Though I'm not sure 'questioned' is the most accurate term. I haven't seen that many interrogations featuring hand-holding, meaningful silences and-" she made a face –"sweetheart." The word hung in the air between them like a loaded gun.

"Teresa, it was a ruse, a ploy. I thought we already discussed this. I thought you understood."

"I do. But that doesn't mean I have to like standing there watching you work your magic on someone else. Especially _her_," she spat.

"My 'magic?'" he repeated, not quite able to bite back a smile.

"You know, that thing you do when you convince people that you're their knight in shining armour, that you're going to slay the dragons and make everything OK."

"Sweet-" he cut himself off swiftly at the expression on her face –"Teresa, I've been doing that for years. It's never bothered you before."

"Things are different now. You're mine," she blurted out, hating how childish it sounded. "And only mine."

Her green eyes flashed defiantly at him, daring him to laugh, and though he did have to fight off the beginnings of a grin, there was nothing but seriousness in the way he threaded his arm around her waist and drew her into him. After a moment's resistance, she relaxed against him, laying her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh.

"That's right," he said. "I'm yours."

He could have prattled on for hours about his love for her, could have promised not to so much as look at another woman again, but the utter finality with which he said those four words reassured her more effectively than anything else could have.

"But don't you go getting ideas about going all caveman on me," she said, some of her good humour now returning. "You start going around telling people you have some macho claim over me and I'll shoot you."

He did laugh at this; she felt his body vibrating pleasantly with chuckles.

"Hypocrite," he said, running his thumb back and forth along her hip. "And since when have I ever been macho, in any sense of the word?"

She considered this for a moment. She pictured him sipping tea from his favourite blue cup, diving behind her at the slightest sign of guns or violence, reciting a sonnet from Shakespeare without so much as blinking.

"Point taken," she said. She'd always liked that about him, there were more than enough Neanderthal men in her life to be going on with, all of whom seemed to be overcompensating for something anyway.

"How come you're allowed to go all primeval, and I'm not, anyway?" he asked.

"I'm not going anywhere."

A shadow crossed his face at these words. Did she think for one moment that he was less serious about them than she was? Hadn't he already proved that his life took a dive in every conceivable way when he was away from her?

"Well, neither am I," he said.

"Promise me something," she said. "If you ever get tired of this, us, I mean, promise me you won't play me like you did Lorelei. Don't pretend you still care about me if you don't; tell me straight."

"You really think I'd do that?" he asked, sounding hurt.

"Not to be cruel," she said. "But maybe to try and spare my feelings. I'm a big girl. I'll be able to handle it."

"Take it from me, it's not going to be an issue."

"I really hope so," she said, vehemently. "But still."

He sighed. "Fine, I promise. As long as you do too. What?" he added at her questioning look. "You think you're the only one at risk here?"

She placed a soft kiss on his cheek, and another on his lips, an unspoken promise, before reaching over to take the TV remote from his hand.

"Lets see if there's a movie on cable," she said. "Kill some time until Darcy calls."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Not for the first time, Susan Darcy cursed Patrick Jane and his big mouth. She honestly didn't know how Lisbon could do this day in and day out, trailing along in the carnage he created, hoping to get something worthwhile out of it, all the while keeping her superiors and other naysayers at bay. She found her esteem for the CBI agent was rising with every passing hour; perhaps when this was all over they could have a drink, maybe even be friends. Heaven knew she could do with a few more of those.

Maybe even Patrick, under Teresa's calming influence, could be a friend sometime in the future. She could see the difference in him already since she'd found out about their new relationship, not quite as manic and driven as he was when she'd first met him, but more composed, and even a little happier.

She smiled to herself. Against the rules it may well be, but she could tell that Patrick and Teresa were just what each other needed. She didn't consider herself romantic or idealistic, but she knew two people who were right for each other when she saw them.

She scrolled through the contacts in her phone for the next ADA on the list. The first three had practically laughed her off the line when she outlined the proposed deal to them.

"If you think I'm going to take that to the DA, you're crazier than Jane and that's saying something," the last one had crowed as he hung up.

She'd known going in that this was going to be a hard sell; but she also felt that Jane's plan, however risky, was also likely to work. He'd certainly managed to scare Lorelei enough to ask for protection, a feat that none of the FBI's top interrogators had been able to achieve. Patrick Jane was certainly a formidable force to have on your side, and an equally menacing enemy. Lisbon would certainly have her hands full.

She stopped on the highlighted number of the next ADA, Holly Richards, took a deep, steadying breath, and dialled.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Tell me, is there a cop alive who hasn't seen this movie?" asked Jane, as he and Lisbon watched the opening credits of 'The Shawshank Redemption.'

"I'm pretty sure it's required viewing at the academy," she replied. "Well, this and 'Police Academy' of course."

"Of course," he agreed. "It's important to cover all bases of crime and punishment."

Somehow she'd gone from sitting at his side to lying across him, her head on the armrest of the couch, his fingers had crept under her jersey and now lazily stroked her abdomen. His touch was soothing, rather then erotic, and once or twice, she'd caught herself just in time as she almost fell asleep. Darcy could call at any moment. She must not sleep.

"What was your favourite movie growing up?" she asked.

"I never had time for that kind of thing when I was a kid," he said. "The carnival was always on the move, and I was doing my act twice, or sometimes three times a day. On the rare occasion that I did get some time to myself, the last place I wanted to be was in the van."

"What did you do?"

"I just wandered around the area," he said with a reminiscent smile. "I'd give myself two hours to try and get as far away from the fairgrounds as I could, and then try to find my way back again. I think I've seen more of the wilderness of America than most people."

"And you did this alone?" she asked, picturing a boy with golden curls walking across an empty plain. She had no idea what Jane might have looked like when he was young, but she was sure he'd been just as handsome then as he was now.

"At first," he said. "But after a while, someone joined me."

The trace of sadness in his voice made it clear who that 'someone' was. No doubt he and his wife had shared their first kiss, and perhaps even fallen in love on one of those lonely ramblings. The story would have been romantic, were it not for the bloody ending that was to come.

She turned her head, and glanced up at him. His eyes had a faraway look, and he stared at the television without really seeing it. She felt sure he was revisiting one of those afternoons of his youth with his true love. The part of her not paralysed with fear of losing him wished he could have those moments again, even just once, because she knew in her heart that he'd never love her the same way he loved Angela.

He came out of his reverie and smiled down at her. "I don't know what I did to deserve her _and_ you. I think in some former life I must have been a saint."

"I know my saints pretty well," she said. "And I'm pretty sure there's no patron saint of pains-in-the-ass anywhere in history."

He leaned down to kiss her, and she kissed him back, feeling herself being tilted from her lying position, cradled in his arms. She took hold of his shirt and held it fast; lest he try and break it off before she was ready. He didn't.

"Besides," she said, after they eventually did break apart, her death grip on his shirt, loosening slowly. "Saints don't kiss like that."

The movie kept playing on, and although she was trying to pay attention to it, her mind kept wandering to other things; from wondering how Darcy was proceeding with the plan, to how Jane expected her to concentrate on anything if his hands kept brushing against her breast, which she was _sure_ he was doing on purpose.

"What do you think is going to happen?" she asked him, after fifteen minutes of silence. He'd now progressed to rubbing her shoulders, massaging away the tension of the last few days, and the last six months when he'd been gone. "With Lorelei."

"I think Darcy will get us our deal," he said. "And that Lorelei will go into witness protection and tell us something important. I think we'll take down Red John and all his minions. And then it'll be over."

"This plan could still go seriously wrong," she pointed out. "It could fail on any number of counts; we're leaving so much to chance."

"I have to believe it's going to work. Because only when this nightmare is over can you and I truly be free. We can be happy, maybe we can even start making some plans of our own."

"Like what?" she asked. Normally such 'plans' involved things like moving in together, marriage, and children. Her insides twisted with fear. She hadn't been ready for that years ago with Greg, and she wasn't sure she was ready for it now.

"Anything we want," he said. "Even if we decide just to keep things exactly the way they are, at least it'll be our decision and no-one else's."

She relaxed, glad that he took this view of things. They'd only just found each other after years and years of circling. There was no need to rush the rest of it.

"That sounds good," she said.

"Just think," he said. "Things will be just like they are right now, only better. No more plotting, no more scheming. Just you-" he kissed her nose –"and me."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Darcy put down her cell phone, after finally having negotiated the deal with Holly Richards. It had taken all her powers of persuasion, the redemption of an owed favour, and a sworn promise that Jane's involvement would be kept to a minimum from here on in, but the ADA had agreed to support her motion. Now all she had to do was wait for the say-so of the DA himself and they would be ready to proceed.

With luck, Lorelei could be moved into witness protection as early as tomorrow morning, Jane would have her talking by noon, and that bastard Red John would be in custody by nightfall.

She felt a savage pleasure at the idea of slapping handcuffs on the man that ruined so many lives. She had no doubt that Lisbon would be just as eager to add the serial killer's scalp to her collection and Jane perhaps a little too much so. But she'd see to it that they'd all have their chance to take a piece of the monster that had made their lives hell. Legally of course.

There would be payback for Jane's wife and child, payback for Sam Bosco, Kristina Frye, Luther Wainwright and all the others she'd read about in his file that had fallen victim to him. For Wainwright, she carried her own personal guilt. Though many had told her that there was nothing she could have done, no possible way she could have known what would happen when she and her team opened fire on that limousine, she felt the weight of his death on her shoulders every day.

His autopsy report had arrived in her office yesterday, but so far she hadn't been able to face opening it. The bullets in his body would have been matched by Ballistics to all the agent's weapons, and she didn't think she could handle seeing black-and-white proof if she had fired the fatal shot.

She had stayed much later than usual tonight, wanting to get everything sorted out so she could call Jane and Lisbon right away and get the ball rolling. Besides, she was in no hurry to get back to her own motel room. Unlike Lisbon, she did not have any ridiculously handsome men for company. (Yes she was always professional around Jane and Lisbon, but she wasn't_ blind_, after all.)

Somebody passed by the door of the room she was in, momentarily blocking the light from the hallway. She raised a hand in greeting, but the passer by ignored it, and continued on his way. Whatever. It was getting late, and it couldn't be all that stimulating standing guard over a jail that held only one prisoner.

She placed her cell phone next to her, so she could grab it the moment it rang and then turned unenthusiastically to the large pile of paperwork stacked beside her. No matter where she went, it always seemed to follow, like a bad smell.

Some things never changed.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Despite her best efforts, Lisbon made it through only two-thirds of the movie before she fell asleep. With great difficulty, Jane twisted and contorted himself out from under her without waking her, and put a blanket from the bed over her, smiling at her quiet snores. He had half a mind to put her cell phone somewhere out of the way so it wouldn't disturb her but thought better of it; she'd murder him if she missed the call. So he put it on the coffee table beside her and went to take a shower.

When he returned, it was to find the couch empty and clattering sounds coming from the 'kitchen' or rather the tiny area comprised of two cupboards and about five inches of bench space. Knotting his towel more securely around his waist, he went to investigate the source of the noise, and discovered Lisbon flinging open first one cupboard, and then the other, with snorts of annoyance.

He leaned against the wall, watching her.

"Teresa, what are you doing?"

"Tap dancing," she snapped, without looking at him.

"There's no need for sarcasm, dear."

"Looking for coffee," she said. "I have to stay awake. Although, God only knows how I managed to fall asleep on that couch; it's so uncomfortable. How do you _do _that every day at work?" she asked. "My neck is killing me."

"Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the couch."

"Ha ha," she said, blankly. "You could at least be helpful instead of standing there making stupid comments."

"I'd love to, but I'm not sure I'm dressed for it."

She turned around at these words, took in his lack of clothing, and he saw the familiar gleam in her eye. He was coming to love that little gleam as much as he loved to watch her in a blazing temper.

The moment however, was truncated by the unmistakeable sound of her cell phone, from the living room. She nearly bowled him over in her haste to answer it, snatching it up on the third ring.

"Lisbon…Cho?...No of course I want to hear what you found, I'm just expecting another call…"

The conversation continued in this vein for another minute before she snapped her phone shut again.

"They got a hit on Corbin Miller's juvie record. Turns out he was put in there for beating a guy half to death."

"Really?" said Jane, with interest. "Red John does look for violent tendencies in his protégées."

But Lisbon shook her head. "The guy he bashed was attempting to rape a fourteen year old girl at the time. If Miller hadn't walked by when he did-"

"He's not the one, then," said Jane. "If there's one thing Red John_ doesn't_ value in his minions, it's respect for women." The last few words came out as a kind of snarl.

"So we're back to square one," she said, listlessly.

"Guess we are," he agreed. "But not for long."

Darcy unfolded her rigid limbs from the chair she'd been sitting in for the past three hours, and lurched out the door in search of the vending machine in the breakroom. This expedition took her past the elevator to the floor where Lorelei was being kept. Perhaps she'd drop in and check on her, see if she might want to chat a little earlier now the deal was officially on. She doubted she'd get the same kind of results as Jane would, but it was worth a try.

She rode the elevator down and beat the now-familiar path to Lorelei's cell. Upon arrival, she was unsurprised to see Lorelei curled up on her cot, apparently asleep.

She tapped on the window, but the prisoner didn't stir. She knocked again, louder now, and called her name, but was again met with no response. She kicked the steel door, so the ringing crash echoed down the hall. Still nothing.

A chill that had nothing to do with the air-conditioning swept through her body, making the back of her neck prickle with foreboding.

It took only one call down the hall to bring a guard running.

"Open the door!" she commanded, and as soon as it was done, she rushed into the room.

Lorelei had made no reaction at all to the sudden entrance of Darcy and the guard. With an increasing feeling of doom, Darcy approached the cot, as other guards began to pile into the room.

And then she saw it. The smear of green gel on Lorelei's forearm, this time not harmless aloe vera, but the lethal poison used by Red John to silence those who dared betray him forever.

"Don't touch her!" she barked at the guard to her immediate left, who was stretching out his hand towards her. "Do you plan on living longer than the next thirty seconds?"

"Someone hit the lights!" came the cry from behind, and then the cell was flooded with illumination.

It was clear that Lorelei's last moments had been the stuff of nightmares. Her mouth was fixed in a silent scream, her eyes glazed over but still retaining the last vestiges of horror at what had happened to her.

"This door was locked from the inside!" The warden had just arrived, looking in, shocked, at the chaos. "How could this have happened?"

Still shaken by the gruesome discovery, Darcy took a step back from the cot, and with a jolt, spotted the drawing etched onto the wall behind it, so tiny, she'd have missed it if she hadn't known what to look for.

Jane had been right. She realised with a sudden thud of comprehension. There was a traitor in this prison. But who? And why?

"Hey!" she roared, over the clamour of the warden and the ten or so guards that had managed to squeeze themselves into the tiny cell. "This area is now a crime scene. I need to go to my office and make a phone call, and while I'm gone, everyone is to get the hell out of this room and seal it off."

"Aston!" barked the warden, and a tall, weedy guard near the door, snapped to attention, "Go with her," he said. "Whatever psychopath did this could still be here."

"Yes, sir," said the guard called Aston, ushering Darcy out of the room, who hurried to keep in step with him. She needed to alert Jane and Lisbon as soon as possible, while hopefully not ending up dead herself. Her fingers closed around the Taser at her hip as he pummelled the button for the elevator.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Peace was restored in the motel room, after Lisbon located some instant coffee and Jane had dressed. They returned to the couch, phone in hand, staring at it as though willing it to ring.

"She should have called by now," said Jane. "It's been hours."

"Patience," said Lisbon, in faint amusement "Getting reasonable people to agree to your ideas takes time."

He got up from the couch and began pacing the room.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," he said. "We need to get to the prison. Now."

As he flashed past her, Lisbon reached out and caught his hand in hers. She squeezed it.

"Patrick you're just nervous because you're not doing it yourself. Darcy's got this. Trust me."

He looked down at their linked hands. "Teresa, do you remember years ago when Minelli said that we shouldn't act on a hunch? Do you remember what you told him?"

"It's a Jane hunch, sir. You keep him around for a reason," she recited, with a slight pang at the thought of her old friend and mentor.

He nodded. "Teresa, I've got a hunch right now. A bad one. We have to go. Trust me."

They heard the commotion at the prison long before they reached it. Sirens were wailing, lights flashed from at least a dozen squad cars, people dashed here and there, and the floodlights at the gates bathed the area in brilliance.

Lisbon had barely stopped the car before she and Jane were out of it.

"Agent!" The panicked voice of the warden was just audible over the furore. He shoved his way through the crowd to get to them. "She's dead!" he shouted. "Martins is dead!"

"What?" Behind her, she heard a metallic thud and guessed that Jane had fallen against the car, staggered by what he had heard. "How?"

"That green stuff you pretended to put on her earlier, but the real thing this time. Agent Darcy went to look in on her and she was already dead."

"A face," Jane's voice, somewhat smaller than usual, but still commanding, came from the vicinity of the car. "Was there a smiley face?"

The blood drained from the warden's face. "On the wall," he said. "Behind her. So damn tiny I almost missed it."

Lisbon felt as if she'd just had the wind knocked out of her, and found that she too, needed to lean on the car for support. The shock of what she'd heard hadn't fully sunk in when something else occurred to her.

"Agent Darcy. Where is she?"

The warden looked confused. "She said she had to make a call. I assumed it would have been to you. You haven't spoken to her?"

Jane's head snapped up, from where it had been leaning on the doorframe.

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"About half an hour ago. She said she was going to her office, I sent one of my guys with her."

"Take us there."

Despite the ruckus outside, the hallways of the prison were as eerily silent as ever as Jane, Lisbon and the warden strode through them, setting a cracking pace, with doors flying past them. With every step, the dark feeling of dread inside Jane seemed to intensify, until it threatened to consume him, but he held it at bay with the last faint ray of hope he had left. Darcy knew what they were up against; she was prepared. She'd just gotten busy with crime scene procedures; that was the only reason she hadn't called…

"It's up here," said the warden abruptly. "Last door on the right."

Together, Jane and Lisbon broke into a run, outstripping the warden, and reaching the door within seconds, and into the room beyond.

Lisbon let out a gasp of horror. The warden, catching up, clapped a hand over his mouth, retching at the sight.

Dominating the back wall of the small office, a perfect circle, glistening red, and drops of red substance making their slow way to the floor, staining the surface as they went.

The eyes, hellish red and seeming to burn through him, and the mouth, curved into a mocking smile. Red John's calling card.

Jane didn't need to look to know what came next, but as if of their own accord, his eyes were drawn to the dark shape sprawled upon the floor. He fell to his knees beside the body of Susan Darcy, ripped and slashed almost beyond recognition, a Taser gun still clasped in her hand, terror on her face. There was barely an inch of her that not been violated, either by a knife or something even more sinister.

"Jesus Christ," said the warden, under his breath, and he heard Lisbon bite back a sob. Blindly, he stretched out a hand behind him, and immediately felt her seize it as she too knelt beside the corpse of their dead friend. Not caring how it would look, or who might see, he pulled her toward him in a tight embrace.

And then, there was burst of music, seemingly coming from Darcy's left pocket. He and Lisbon exchanged glances, as it rang out again. Ignoring her strangled cry of protest, he reached into the pocket muttering 'I'm sorry,' as if someone might care.

He drew out Darcy's cell phone. On the screen flashed "One New Message." He opened it.

_Patrick,_

_Close, but no cigar._

_John. _

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was several hours before Lisbon had a chance to speak to Jane alone. They'd been forced to separate and answer hundreds of questions, about Lorelei, about Darcy, but mostly about Red John. The crime scene techs were processing both the cell and the office, a BOLO had been put out on Sam Aston, the missing guard who had been the last to see Darcy alive, and the coroner had arrived to pick up the bodies. She turned away as the black bag was loaded onto the gurney and wheeled away.

It took a while to find Jane, what with so many people and so much activity, but she eventually located him in a bathroom just off the main corridor, clutching the sides of a sink, and staring into a grubby mirror.

His shoulders tensed when he heard the door open.

"Patrick?" she said, uncertainly, lingering on the threshold. She never knew how he was going to react over something like this.

"It's OK, Teresa." He sounded as close to his usual self as could be expected under the circumstances, so she carefully approached, seeing her own reflection getting bigger and bigger as she did so.

"We'll get him," she said, feeling inadequate, but that it had to be said.

"Yes we will," he said. "I guarantee it."

She put both her arms around him, holding him to her, because there was nothing else she could do.

"Something else I can guarantee," he said, presently. "He is not going to take you away from me. Even if _I_ have stand in front of _you_ with a gun for change, even if I have to stay by your side non-stop for the next decade. I'm not losing you."

"I already told you once, I'm not going anywhere," she said, with an attempt at a smile. "I love you."

"I love you too. So much."

"There's nothing left for us here," she said. "Come on, let's go home."

He slipped his hand into hers and allowed her to lead him out.

**Donna and I only planned this fic to go to ten chapters, so this is probably the last chapter I will write for this story. Thank you all for the support and reviews you've given us throughout this venture. Hope you'll be back for the finale!**

**Last but not least, I also want to thank Donna herself, the best writing partner I could have asked for. The success of this fic is all down to you. **


	11. Chapter 10: Conclusion

A/N: On behalf of waterbaby134, I extend our thanks to all those who reviewed/followed/favorited. We are so thrilled you enjoyed this fic, but it couldn't be as much as I enjoyed writing with my new friend, waterbaby. She was a joy to work with. If you haven't checked out her other stories, please do—you owe it to yourself both as a "Mentalist" fan, and a reader in general.

So, here is the conclusion, despite some of you having been confused that the last chapter was the end. Sorry about that. It was waterbaby's last chapter, but not the last of this story. Alas, however, the end is nigh, at least of "Scarlet Woman." A small note that part of this chapter has some slightly M-rated stuff, so please be advised. Thanks for reading!

**Chapter 10: Conclusion**

They had only been away from Sacramento a few days, but it seemed like an eternity. The long ride home had at first been unusually quiet, both of them still a little in shock from the unfortunate turn of events at the prison. Once again, Red John had not allowed anyone close to him to live to tell his tales. Neither of them was surprised, but it still was disheartening to say the least. It really was too bad about Darcy, though. She had come around to seeing things their way, had turned into a true ally. She hadn't deserved to die for that.

_One more death on my head, _thought Jane morosely.

He looked over at Lisbon, lost in her own thoughts as she peered out into the miles of seemingly endless desert. If she weren't clutching his hand across the seat, he would have felt like she was giving him the cold shoulder. One of the FBI investigators on the scene, a native of Sacramento, had agreed to drive Lisbon's SUV back to Sacramento so that she could ride home in Jane's Citroen. He wondered now if she was regretting that decision. Maybe she needed the time alone to think about what had happened, both at the prison and in his motel room. He didn't want to contemplate the latter.

"You want to stop for lunch?" he asked her, hoping to perk her up. "I've been seeing the signs that proclaim Granny Annie has great home cookin', fifteen miles ahead."

She didn't smile but she squeezed his hand, her eyes remaining on the scenery. "I'm not really hungry. Feel free to stop if you like."

He sighed, and brought her hand up to his lips. "You seem more depressed than I am. Remember, we did get _something_ out of Lorelei. It's more than we had before, and it confirms suspicions I've had since the day we met Bret Stiles."

"You think Stiles is Red John?" she asked mildly, thinking of the wizened old leader of the Visualize cult. He seemed more like Obi-wan Kenobi than a serial killer, but she also sensed about him the conman, the manipulative cult leader that he was. He likely had his fingers in all kinds of illegal pies, but nothing they'd been able to prove beyond the bad feeling she had around him. He gave her the creeps, no doubt.

"No," Jane replied. "I've always thought Stiles wasn't the killing kind. I wouldn't put it past him to hire someone to do his dirty work, but Stiles, himself? No. I could see Red John as a former protégé, though. I mean, Red John's minions all exhibited some form of brainwashing, perhaps even had been victims of hypnosis, just like the crazies at Visualize. Just look at what Red John did to Kristina, for example."

_Another lost soul to feel guilty about._

"Like the story of Lucifer," Lisbon suggested tentatively.

Jane turned to Lisbon to look at her in surprise. "Yes," he said, because he had just had that same thought.

"Lucifer was jealous of God," Lisbon continued. "He'd been God's angel-perfect, but he wanted to become just as powerful as God."

"'I will raise my throne above the stars of God,'" Jane quoted.

It was Lisbon's turn to look surprised. "Patrick Jane, quoting Scripture?"

He shrugged and gave her an ironic smile. "'The devil can cite scripture for his own purpose,' Lisbon, you as a Catholic should know that." She smiled back, certainly able to see the devil in Jane's eyes.

"You're confusing the Bible with Shakespeare now," she chided.

He shrugged. "An easy mistake."

She shook her head at his blasphemy. "According to the story, Lucifer was cast out of Heaven. Maybe that's what happened to Red John," she said.

Jane nodded. "He's taken Stiles's relatively peaceful though self-serving teachings and profaned them by brainwashing his own followers to do even more evil things besides putting money in his coffers. Red John kills to get Stiles's attention, or maybe to show him he has become, in fact, more powerful than his former master had ever aspired to be."

They were quiet for a moment, then Lisbon said, "What about the mystery surrounding the original founder of Visualize? Stiles was accused of murdering him. Maybe...he's not really dead."

Jane took his eyes off the road to look deeply into Lisbon's eyes. "This is one of the myriad reasons I love you, Teresa." His eyes returned to the freeway before them, and to the rugged mountains in the distance. "There was definitely something fishy with the old Timothy Farragut case, a cover-up somewhere. I've thought of this myself."

"But if that is the case, if Farragut is Red John, then that would actually mean Stiles is Lucifer in the story, and Red John is—"

"God," they said together. Neither of them was comfortable with that characterization.

"Interesting, isn't it?" said Jane, but they were both shaken at the direction their thoughts had turned.

"You've thought of all of this already, haven't you?" Lisbon asked him.

"Yes, but Lorelei's assertion makes it that much more plausible, don't you think?"

"It certainly gives us a new place to start," she said.

"That it does."

Silence filled the little car again, both of them overwhelmed by the enormity that discovering Red John's identity seemed closer than ever. The problem was, however, that it was always a one step forward, two steps back proposition with the serial killer. Just when they'd had a disciple actually willing to sing like a bird, Red John had taken that option away from them. But had he killed Lorelei so she wouldn't talk, or had he killed her because he knew what she'd said, what she'd _agreed_ to say? Until they found Sam Aston, they might never have the answer.

Lisbon looked down at where his strong wrist rested on her jean-clad thigh, the slim, graceful fingers lacing with hers. She put her other hand on top of Jane's, so that now it was completely imprisoned between hers. It felt wonderful to know he was hers and hers alone.

She wasn't going to lie—she was glad Lorelei was dead, even though it had been a bit premature, and they might have missed out on some more insight into Visualize. Now that Lorelei was gone, they could put that scarlet woman in the past where she firmly belonged, her existence no longer hanging over them like the proverbial axe. At this, Lisbon felt a little more hopeful.

"On second thought," she said, breaking the silence as they passed yet another sign for the upcoming restaurant. "I could eat. You suppose Granny Annie makes a good club sandwich?"

She certainly knew the way to his heart. He gave her the super deluxe, knee melting Patrick Jane smile, as the sexy image of Lisbon eating his favorite sandwich shimmered in his mind like a mirage in the desert.

"I love you, Teresa Lisbon."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon was awakened from a deep sleep with hot kisses on her flat stomach. She reached beneath the covers of her bed to find a soft, curly head moving lazily over her body. A muffled chuckle answered her shiver as his tongue dipped inside her navel. He followed that up with a quick kiss on her belly, and suddenly Jane's pillow-creased face appeared above the blankets to rest between her naked breasts. She laughed at his morning playfulness.

"Well, hello there," she said.

"Good morning, my love."

He kissed each breast hello and slid further up her body. She barely stifled a moan at the heavenly feeling of sleep warmed skin on skin. He settled heavily upon her and kissed her until she was breathless, her nails gently raking his back. He nearly purred against her lips, then broke away to nuzzle her neck.

"We have to get to work," she told him, as she felt the evidence below of how much he wanted her. "We'll be late as it is."

He nudged her legs apart with one furry knee. "So what's fifteen more minutes?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Fifteen? You think you can last that long, old man?"

Her eyes widened in surprise as he entered her with one smooth movement, then held still as she grew accustomed to his sensual invasion. He could actually see the pulse pounding in her neck before his eyes rose to meet hers. He swivelled his hips a little and she gasped in delight.

"Why, I take that as a personal challenge, Lisbon," he said, a bit breathless himself. "As a matter of fact, let's make this a bet."

She lifted her hips and he closed his eyes at the pleasure that hummed through his body. "I bet you'll succumb at least...five minutes before I do." He noted the time on the clock radio.

"What? No way," she protested, tightening her Kegel muscles around him. His eyes literally crossed and she laughed.

"And don't even try to fake it," he warned, pulling out a bit before plunging again into her heated softness. She moaned in reaction. "Because I'll know."

In the end, the bet was a moot one. They both lasted exactly ten minutes by Jane's reckoning. When he could focus on the clock again, that is.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Later, in Jane's car on the way to CBI headquarters, he noted with satisfaction that Lisbon hadn't needed to put on any makeup that morning. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed; she looked like she'd spent a day at a spa rather than a morning rolling between the sheets with him. He imagined he looked much the same.

"What are we going to tell the rest of the team?" Jane asked.

"Well, I already updated Cho about what happened to Lorelei and Darcy. I'm sure he's filled in the others."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it. What are we going to tell them about _us_?"

"Us?"

"Lisbon," he all but growled. "Quit being deliberately obtuse. Do you want to go public with our relationship, or will we have to hide our love and have secret trysts in the attic?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Too dusty. I've always had a certain fantasy about your couch, however."

Jane's eyes widened and he involuntarily swerved the car a little. A neighboring car honked.

"Seriously?" he managed, righting the vehicle and waving sheepishly at the man he'd nearly sideswiped.

"Keep your eyes on the road, Romeo. You had to know, Mr. Mentalist, I've wanted you for quite some time. I just sort of...suppressed those feelings though, for the sake of our jobs."

"Which is why you're hesitant about letting everyone know we're together." He paused a moment, then: "What exactly were we doing in this couch fantasy of yours?"

"I'll just have to show you sometime," she said with a promising smile.

He physically shook himself. "But you're changing the subject, or getting _me_ to anyway. Come on, Lisbon, I need to know how to behave. You know me, if you don't set boundaries..."

"Ha! You wouldn't know a boundary if it jumped up and bit you in the ass." She sighed. "Fine. We tell them."

"We do?" he asked, surprised. "Confession wasn't exactly good for the souls of Rigsby and Van Pelt."

"True, but they were breaking the rules, at least the explicit ones."

"What does that mean? Speak English, woman, not government-ese."

She blushed. "I uh, looked into this some time ago. You are not actually a CBI member; you're a consultant. The regulation about romantic relationships specifically applies to CBI team members. It says nothing categorically about consultants getting involved with team members. It just confirms what I've always thought about you, Jane—you're definitely _not _a team player."

"Hey," he protested. Then he grinned, analyzing her words more carefully. "First, the fact that you looked into this _some time _ago tells me you've been pondering a relationship with me even before Death Valley. Secondly, I am too a team player. I'm always asking for the team's input and help, and I frequently give the same to them."

"When it's convenient," she countered, ignoring his other rather conceited contention.

"True," he admitted. When she was right, she was right. "But there might be some ambivalent feelings from them, maybe some jealousy on the parts of the former lovers on the team. You ready to deal with their possible resentment?"

"I know it seems like hypocrisy, but we haven't broken any rules; they did. And they're not together anymore by their own choice. One of them could have chosen to go to a different unit, but they valued their jobs over their relationship. I don't plan to give up so easily."

"And why is that, Agent Lisbon?"

His voice had gone velvety soft as he looked over at her, so beautiful in her stubborn defense of their new bond.

"Because I love you, you idiot," she said in exasperation.

"Even more than your job?"

"Now you're just fishing for compliments." She gestured impatiently toward the intersection ahead. "Go, will ya? The light is green."

"Yes, Boss."

She shot him a dirty look at his sarcasm, but both of them had silly grins on their faces the rest of the trip.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Upon their arrival after nearly a week away from HQ, Lisbon and Jane had spent some time filling in the team on the events surrounding Lorelei's confession and the subsequent deaths of Red John's girl and Susan Darcy. They were all understandably angry and frustrated, and Van Pelt sent sympathetic glances at Jane especially, whom she'd always seen as the tragic hero in this story.

At any rate, while everyone was taking a coffee break, Jane confronted Lisbon in her office, pulling the door closed behind him. He made his way to her white couch and sat down, sipping his tea from the familiar old teacup.

"I missed you, old girl," he said to—in his expert opinion—the most perfectly balanced cup.

Lisbon looked up from her own cup, at first thinking he was talking to her. As she watched from beneath her lashes how he held his cup and saucer, her heart warmed at the sight of him in her office, after so many months when she had missed his irritating presence desperately.

"Your cup is a she?"

"Well, of course. Men tend to consider their favorite inanimate objects female. Cars. Boats. Tea cups."

She smirked. "Uh-huh. Did you name her too?"

"Naturally. Lisbon, meet Old Blue." He toasted her with the turquoise cup and a smile.

She shook her head. She'd just grabbed whatever mug was nearest at hand, in this case one from the dish drainer in the break room. Men were so funny.

"I thought that was your car's name."

"No, Lisbon. That's Betty."

"Why Betty?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't she just _look _like a Betty?"

"Yes, come to think of it. It's looks like something Betty _Rubble_ would have driven."

"You take that back."

She grinned but refused. The truth hurt sometimes.

They sipped their hot beverages quietly, Jane contemplating the woman he'd missed so desperately during his exile in Vegas. He was happy to be back in the place where he'd now realized had become home to him. And despite the failure with Lorelei, he was the happiest he'd been in nearly ten years.

"You're stalling," he said.

She didn't play dumb this time. "It's too soon."

"We've loved each other for years, Lisbon. I'd say its long past due."

He let the weight of that bit of truth settle around them, and he was pleased she wasn't denying it. Their relationship had evolved over the years from friendship to affection, from need to desire, each of those characteristics an intrinsic part of the whole that bound them together now. It was love, had _always_ been love, in one incarnation or another. She could see that now as well as he.

He watched as she made up her mind and set down her coffee before getting resolutely to her feet. She walked to the couch and reached out a hand to Jane. Without hesitation, he set down his beloved cup to grasp it as she pulled him up to join her.

"You're right; let's do it now," she said firmly.

"Well, if you're sure..." he teased, but she ignored him. All at once, Lisbon was a woman on a mission.

She pulled him by the hand all the way into the bullpen, and he couldn't help the answering tug of the smile on his lips as they entered the room. Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt were just settling back to work, steaming mugs on their desks.

"So, uh, guys...Jane-_Patrick_ and I have something to say."

Jane immediately zeroed in on Cho, whom he could tell was experiencing the same déjà vu he was. The younger man's dark eyes widened a fraction in anticipation of the forthcoming announcement, and when Jane gave the man a slight nod of affirmation, low and behold, Kimball Cho grinned.

"Teresa and I are...lovers," Jane finished with a hint of amusement, half expecting a jab to his side with her elbow at the corny description of their relationship. She only held more tightly to his hand.

Van Pelt and Rigsby looked at each other.

"No freakin' way," exclaimed Rigsby.

"Believe me, Rigsby, there is a _freakin'_ way," replied Jane dryly.

"How?" Van Pelt asked inanely. She blushed. "I mean, I _know_ how. But..._how_?"

"It's a long story. Nevertheless, I felt there was a greater need for honesty among us all lately, and I felt we should just get it out in the open. I promise you, it won't affect our jobs. Jane and I will continue to act as professionally as ever."

She gave Jane a meaningful look, letting him know with one glance she would brook no hanky panky at the office. He did raise an eyebrow at the characterization of his past work behavior as being _professional._

Then, to Jane and Lisbon's surprise, Rigsby reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and handed a twenty-dollar bill to Cho.

"Wait," said Lisbon. "You all knew?"

"Suspected," said Van Pelt. "And don't forget, you owe me too, Wayne."

"I'll have to visit the ATM," he mumbled.

Lisbon looked at each member of her team in turn, as completely blindsided as she had been when Van Pelt and Rigsby had made a similar announcement two years before.

"We _are _detectives," said Cho blandly, what was left of his smile still glinting in his eyes.

"Taught by the best, Boss," said Van Pelt.

All eyes went to Rigsby then. "Well, except for him," teased Cho. "He's still more or less clueless."

"Hey!"

"And just so you know, we're happy for you both," said Van Pelt. It was good to see someone clearly blissful and in love for a change.

"You don't feel any resentment toward us?" asked Jane gently of the redhead.

She shook her head. "The regs are different for you two; I looked it up."

"You did?" asked Lisbon, still incredulous.

Van Pelt shrugged. "It was a long time coming, Boss. I think we probably knew the potential before you did. Well, except for Wayne..."

"Shut up," said the much-maligned arson expert good-naturedly.

"Anyway," Van Pelt continued. "If it wasn't clear before, Jane's time away in Vegas crystallized it for us. You were acting...heartbroken, like you'd lost someone you loved instead of just a colleague."

Lisbon felt Jane's slight squeeze of her hand in renewed apology. Impulsively, Van Pelt rose from her desk, enclosing Lisbon and Jane in turn with a warm hug.

"I'm truly happy for you both," she whispered, and she wiped at a tear self-consciously.

"Thank you Grace," said Jane, knowing what that admission must have cost her, one as unlucky in love as he had once been.

Lisbon released Jane's hand in an attempt to return to the so-called professionalism she'd espoused to. Jane left her side to settle on his own couch, and she ignored the soft pat he gave to the leather in invitation, a teasing sparkle in his eyes. She blushed at the subtle reminder of her fantasy, but clapped her hands softly together, looking around at her beloved team.

"Now, break time's over. Let's get back to work."

"What's up next, Boss?" asked Cho.

"Visualize," she said. "I want everything you can dig up about Timothy Farragut, and the possible whereabouts of Sam Aston," she told them. "Jane and I are off to talk to Bret Stiles."

Jane nodded. "Van Pelt seems to have formed a special new rapport with the good guru. Maybe she should join us."

Lisbon agreed. "Good idea. You think you can resist his religious overtures, Van Pelt?"

"Piece of cake," she replied, thrilled to be in on this new Red John lead. She had her own personal score to settle with the serial killer.

Lisbon and Jane's eyes met. They'd use the drive to Visualize to run their new plan by Van Pelt. Perhaps she was ready for a little undercover work of her own. Lisbon had resisted Jane's idea at first, but on their drive home from Death Valley, Jane had made his case, and slowly they'd fleshed out a satisfactory plan of action that hopefully would keep Grace out of too much danger.

"You think he'll talk?" asked Cho sceptically. Stiles was as wily as a fox, in his estimation.

Jan shrugged. "Who knows with Stiles? But he does owe me a favor; perhaps it's time I collected."

Lisbon tossed Van Pelt a set of keys. "Go pull the van around to the front," she told the young woman.

"Yes, Boss."

When she'd gone, Jane and Lisbon followed slowly after to the elevator, stopping briefly in her office to pick up her sidearm.

"Bringing out the big gun, eh?" Jane teased.

"If I'm going to be talking to another of Red John's friends, I want to be armed." She strapped on her shoulder holster and positioned the Glock, then slipped her black blazer jacket over it.

Jane's face turned serious. "Stay close to me," he told her, though without a weapon of his own, he didn't consider what good he could possibly do if she were in trouble. He just knew he'd feel better if she stayed in his sight.

She smiled reassuringly. "I will, if you can make me the same promise." And by her tone he knew she meant that he was never again to leave on some damn fool escapade into danger. Not without her, anyway.

"I promise. Never again, Lisbon," he said, already breaking her rule about remaining professional in the office by standing in her personal space.

His lips met hers lightly, lovingly sealing his promise with a tender kiss.

**Epilogue to follow...**

A/N: It has been a pleasure writing this fic with waterbaby. Who knows, maybe we might collaborate again someday. I suppose it depends on the response, hint hint. Thanks again for your support of this story. We love you all!


	12. EPILOGUE

A/N: Surprise! And you thought this story was over. I admit I succumbed to peer pressue—Nerwen Aldarion and SteeleSimz coerced me on Twitter into writing an epilogue dealing with the mention of a certain couch.

This by no means advances the plot in any way. It is pure, slightly M-rated fluff. I hope you enjoy it. Waterbaby was wise to take neither credit nor blame for it, lol. Thanks again for reading!

_**Epilogue**_

_**One month later...**_

It was a brilliant plan, if Lisbon did say so herself. Jane-esque, even. She'd planned it for a week, down to making sure that the three nightshift security guards would be eating the sub sandwiches she'd had delivered as an overdue thank-you for their hard work (paid out of her own pocket, of course). While they were eating, she'd snuck into the deserted camera monitor room, redirected camera fourteen, and clicked _pause_ .

The rest of the team was long gone—she'd given them an early night. It wasn't as if they didn't work overtime most other days, so she wasn't really feeling any guilt about ripping off the state of California. She'd told Jane _she_ was working late, however, which usually meant, after much grumbling, that he would wait for her while snoozing on his couch.

She waited until the first guard had made his rounds through the Serious Crimes Unit—6:15, right on schedule. He waved at her in her office before she saw him head for the stairs. She knew it would be another hour before he came through again. By then, the deed would be done.

Five minutes before the planned attack, she'd peeked in to be sure that Jane was asleep, then she tiptoed into the bullpen, closing and locking both possible exits from the inside with the safety deadbolt. Lastly, she turned off all the lights and made her way over to where her sleeping prince lay.

It was a good thing she knew the office like the back of her hand, for there was no moon this night spilling romantically in through the window, and except for the faint light in the distant elevator landing, the place was black as pitch. She heard Jane's deep breathing, and hesitated about awakening him. Then she hesitated some more about what she was about to do—so unlike her and her desire to be highly professional in the office. She'd nearly changed her mind about the whole thing, when suddenly, two hands reached out and pulled her on top of Jane's warm body.

She gasped in surprise to find herself in that position much more quickly than she'd imagined.

"Don't stop now," he whispered in amusement. His herbal tea laden breath fanned her hot cheeks. "Not after you've planned everything so flawlessly. Well, up to this point, anyway."

"Dammit, Jane!" she hissed. "This was supposed to be a surprise."

She felt his chest vibrate with his soft laughter. "You forget you're dealing with the master, sweetheart."

She struggled to get up now, the excitement of the plan quickly draining away, but he held her tightly on top of him. He was so infuriating. But then she felt his own excitement beneath her wiggling hips, and she decided that perhaps the operation might continue after all; she merely needed to adapt to changing conditions. That's what all good agents must do in the field, right?

"I take it this was a set up for the little fantasy you used to have about me and good old Trixie here."

"Trixie? You've named your damn couch too? Trixie sounds like a hooker's name."

"Yes, but an _old_ hooker's name. One who's been around a while, seen it all, who's used to the weight of a man's body upon her. She's soft in the middle and nicely broken in."

"Her hide's a little leathery though," she said, her voice laced with annoyance. He felt instantly contrite.

"I'm sorry I ruined your surprise, Lisbon."

His hands loosened from her upper arms to slip beneath her t-shirt and caress the bare skin beneath. "But I was afraid you were going to chicken out, and I definitely didn't want that to happen. Things were starting to go very well for me..."

She sighed and rested her cheek on his chest. "In my fantasy," she began, and she heard his heart pick up a little beneath her ear. "I would find you alone on the couch, no one else around. I'd awaken you with my hands on your...zipper."

He swallowed as her hand slid lower to rest between their bodies, a hair's breadth away from the fastening of his trousers.

"Please, Lisbon," he murmured, "Do go on. I'm captivated."

Her hand stilled. "You know, in my fantasy you were asleep. Your talking is just ruining the mood."

"What?"

"I'd see you lying on the couch sometimes, so beautiful with your angelic curls and that hot mouth of yours."

"Lisbon—" His breath was coming in soft pants now.

"Your _silent_, hot mouth."

"All right, all right. I get it. I'll just go back to sleep." He fell silent, and Lisbon waited in exasperation until, after a few seconds had passed, he began to snore lightly.

She abruptly got off the couch, her elbow inadvertently jabbing into his stomach. He let out a pained _"Ooff."_

"Okay, mood's totally lost now," she exclaimed.

"Hey, don't go! I was being quiet. I was _sleeping_."

"You never snore, Jane, especially not in my fantasy. This was a bad idea—"

"Come on, Lisbon. Please don't stop. I'll shut up and remain perfectly still; do with me whatever you will. Hey, that rhymed."

"For the love of God, Jane."

He was quiet and motionless now, feigning sleep again by not replying.

"Jane?"

No answer. She knelt beside the couch, trying to work herself into the excitement she'd felt minutes before. It really didn't take long once she reached out a tentative hand to touch him. His breathing hitched a bit, but admirably, he remained quiet. She smiled in the darkness. Only this man could simultaneously make her angry, hot and amused just by laying on a couch.

Her hand brushed over his fly, felt his burgeoning desire beneath the soft fabric. Oh, she was back on her mission now, for sure. She used both hands to undo the metal clasp at the top of his pants, then she slowly pulled down the zipper. It sounded very loud in the empty bullpen.

Beneath his boxer briefs he was hot and hard, and she ran her hand along his length while she felt him tense and struggle to remain still. After a few moments, her hand went to his waistband and she slipped it inside, her fingers finding him, caressing his velvety skin while he no longer even tried to pretend he was sleeping, if his rasping breath was any indication. _So much for biofeedback_, she thought wickedly.

She went to pull down his pants and underwear and realized her imagination had left out a vital detail—there was no way she could remove his garments unless he lifted his hips.

"Okay, so you can _wake up_ now," she whispered. She heard his soft chuckle and he complied with her unspoken demand, his hips coming up off the couch. She pulled down his clothing just far enough to access what she'd long dreamed about.

"Why do I feel like we should be in a swimming pool, and that Kyle's flashlight will be shining on us at any minute?"

"Because you, dear Lisbon, are addicted to danger."

She snorted a little, and he found it suddenly hard to speak as she resumed sliding her hands up and down. Then her mouth took their place and he moaned. It didn't stop him talking though, or trying to.

"That's...why..._oh, Teresa_...you're a...uh...uh..." He'd lost his train of thought and she removed her mouth. He gasped in protest.

"A cop?" she finished for him.

"Yessss...and why the hell are you stopping?"

Her mouth returned to his hot skin and he nearly came undone as her laughter hummed around him. Things were beginning to feel way too good for Jane to control himself, and he forced his body to calm down a bit, but she ramped up her efforts in response and he was lost.

Afterward, he lay still on the couch, unable to move even if he'd wanted to. She'd slid his briefs up over him again and lay down upon his limp body, kissing him gently on the lips before resting her head on his chest once more. She listened as his heart went from its near-maniacal pounding to a more regular rhythm, and one shaky hand came up to rest on her back, the other to slide through her silken hair.

"So that was really your fantasy, eh?" he asked in mild amusement. "It didn't seem like there was much in it for you."

She turned her head, resting her chin on his chest, straining to see him through the blackness. "Oh yes," she said. "Patrick Jane, completely at my mercy. I could touch him in any way I liked, and he would let me. I would finally know what was beneath those conservative suits, feel that gorgeous hair, kiss those sensual lips. Yeah, that was pretty much my fantasy in a nutshell."

Her hands delved into his curls and she found that mouth, nipping at its fullness before sliding her tongue out to taste him.

"Hmmm," he murmured, wanting her again. "Why didn't you ever act on it?" he suggested against her lips. "I would have been quite amenable, I promise you."

"You would?" she said in surprise, drawing back a little. "I was afraid to even contemplate doing something like this. I didn't even suspect you might think of me in that way until you said you loved me, well, before you pretended to shoot me, that is. Even then I was hesitant to read too much into it, especially when you denied you even remembered..."

"I'm sorry, Lisbon, for all the times I must have sent you mixed messages. But trust me when I tell you that I've had plenty of fantasies of my own about you, despite my best efforts not to."

"Oh?" she said, and she moved her hips enticingly, thrilled with the possibility of a second round so soon.

"I did awaken on this couch in a cold sweat one time," he told her, his hands moving to knead her bottom, effectively pushing her more tightly against his renewed desire. "Having had a wonderful dream about you and those lovely, talented little hands of yours."

"Oh?" she said, her voice going low and whiskey smooth. "What was I doing with them?" Her fingers worked the buttons on his shirt, then moved on lower, to his vest.

"You were...making me...a sandwich..."

She stopped her unbuttoning. "What?" she growled in warning.

He laughed. "Would it help if I said you were naked?"

She punched him in the arm. Hard. "Ow! Lisbon, can't you take a joke?"

She no longer took her time with his buttons, but tore open his finely tailored vest, practically ripping his designer dress shirt to reveal his smoothly defined chest to her seeking hands. She heard the sound of buttons bouncing on the floor.

"I'll make you a sandwich," she threatened.

Jane laughed. "What does that even mean?"

She sat up and slipped her t-shirt over her head, then reached around to unhook her bra. She fell forward heavily on top of him again.

"You'll see," she promised. She swallowed his rejoinder with her mouth.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hey, Mick," said Joe, the CBI night guard. "We got another one."

Joe sat in his chair before the camera monitors, finishing his last bite of the sandwich Agent Lisbon had so kindly provided. He'd seen immediately that the pause button had been pressed on one of the office cameras.

"Which camera," asked Mick, standing behind him to look at the monitor in question.

"Fourteen."

"Aww. Serious Crimes. Haven't seen any action there in awhile."

"Not since Cho and his blonde bimbo went at it in the stairwell."

Mick chuckled. "Yeah, and we'd have to go back another year for Rigsby and that redhead—Van Pelt. They had a certain affinity for the men's room, if I recall."

"And the interrogation room."

"And the janitor's closet." Both men laughed at the memory. "Good times."

"Well, who is it now?" Joe asked, squinting into the darkened bullpen as they refocused the camera around the room.

"There they are, on the couch. Ha. Definitely a little something goin' on there." They couldn't see exactly what was happening in the darkness, but they could certainly guess, since the action was taking place on Jane's notorious couch.

"I bet it's Jane and Agent Lisbon."

"What?"

"Where the hell have _you _been? It's all over the CBI. The consultant and the senior agent, finally getting it on."

"Well that explains the sandwiches," Mick said, grabbing a napkin and wiping the last vestiges of mustard from his moustachioed lips. "And it's about the hell time, if you asked me. Those two have been circling each other like two dogs in heat for years."

"Hey, Agent Lisbon is a classy dame. And Jane always remembers my name, unlike most of the sticks-up-their-asses in this building." He reached past Mick to flip off the power to camera fourteen. "Let's give them some privacy."

"Damn, you're easy. You'd sell out your own mother for a sandwich..."

**THE END**...**For real this time**.


End file.
